Transition
by Dragontiger96
Summary: Falling in love over a course of seven years. f!Hawke/Isabela
1. It's just sex

_This concentrates on the developing relationship between Hawke and Isabela. Knowledge of the game is required since I do not describe quests in great detail, but make many references. I used the default Hawke for this story, but avoided using too much detail, so feel free to imagine your own._

_No beta, so please excuse the errors._

* * *

Transition

Chapter 1: It's just sex

It started a little after meeting Isabela at the Hanged Man. Varric requested a meeting in his suite, and Hawke certainly needed a drink after chasing around bandits for Aveline the night before. It wasn't new to see a group of men huddled around the occasional woman in the tavern. Hawke had seen the Rivaini before and thought nothing of it. She wouldn't be the first traveler to stop by the place for its cheap rooms and ale. The warrior was about to move on, until the well-endowed woman slammed a man's face into the counter. After a flurry of movement, a blade was at his neck. "Tell me, Lucky, is this worth dying for?"

That was interesting. Still, it was none of her business, so Hawke moved on. She walked over to the barkeep and paid for two tankards of ale. Varric would probably want some.

"You're new around here aren't you?" asked the woman. With a hint of humor in her voice, she continued, "You're nothing but tits and ass to the men in this place and they won't hesitate to grab at both."

Hawke turned to face her. A bit entertained, she replied, "Speaking from experience, are we?"

The woman laughed, and introduced herself as Isabela, a former ship captain. Isabela apparently needed help with a duel. She suspected the other party of foul play. For some reason strangers liked to go to Hawke when it came to violent issues; it probably had to do with the fact that she walked around with a sword and shield on her back. Not wanting to turn down a woman in need, or the potential for a bit of coin for the Deep Roads expedition, Hawke accepted the quest. They would meet later that night below the keep. With any luck, there would be a duel and she wouldn't have to do anything, especially if her new charge won.

Things never turned out according to plan. What should have been a simple babysitting job quickly became a bloodbath. Luckily enough, Hawke managed to convince Varric, Aveline and Bethany to help out with the ship captain's situation. After slaughtering their way to the Chantry, they met with the blighter who wanted Isabela dead.

Hawke tried to resolve the situation peacefully, which was starting to work until the pirate decided to throw a knife into one of the mercenaries. If she planned to do that all along, why couldn't she kill Hayder first? Regardless, the result ended with a mess of bodies and blood on the floor of the Chantry. Hawke did not want to be around to see the Grand Cleric's face when she discovered the new paint job.

Afterward, Isabela answered Hawke's questions, mostly. Freeing Fereldens from the fate of slavery earned the ire of her previous employer. Now she was after some relic that had disappeared into the city, so he'd stop trying to kill her. All the while, she told her story as if it were some dirty bar joke meant to be laughed at. Hawke offered to help, but only out of courtesy.

The Rivaini thanked her. "I think I'll tag along for a while. There might be something I could do for you." A useful offer. The woman wasn't without skill; the bodies on the floor were evidence enough. Then she seductively sauntered toward Hawke and said, "And I have a room at the Hanged Man, if you're looking for company later."

The warrior never thought she would take up the second proposition. She wouldn't have, if it weren't for a fight with Bethany a couple of weeks later. Siblings in such close quarters were always a recipe for disaster. Unfortunately, the elder usually got the blame, faultless or not. As such, Hawke was left without a place to sleep that night thanks to Leandra's scolding. Now restless and angry, she walked over to the Hanged Man, which was conveniently located close to Uncle Gamlen's excuse for a home.

It wasn't late, and she had enough money to get drunk. Spending a few silvers would do little to dent their already impossible task of amassing a fortune of fifty sovereigns. Finding a stable chair, Hawke plopped down and demanded a drink.

The first swig of ale made her wince with disgust. Maker knew this swill was worse than the most awful moonshine the farmers of Lothering served, but she managed to swallow anyway. It wasn't as if she came here to taste test the stuff. That was when Isabela decided to seat herself next to Hawke.

"Don't worry; the taste goes away if you drink enough." She commented on Hawke's reaction to the drink.

The warrior scoffed. "Only because I'm too drunk to notice," she replied.

Noticing the scowl, Isabela asked, "So what's got your knickers all up in a knot?"

"Nothing," Hawke grumbled into the tumbler.

"Oh?" she questioned, "You sure you weren't slighted by that gray warden in Darktown? Did he turn you down?"

The warrior frowned. She did no such thing, and Isabela knew it. Anders was certainly handsome, but Hawke had no time for love. Between protecting her sister, providing for her mother and trying to get on the deep road's expedition, the former refugee barely had time for herself let alone for a lover. It didn't matter anyway. She wasn't here for any of those reasons. She was here only because of a stupid argument with her little sister over a stupid book, and its location in their shared room. The thought caused Hawke's brow to furrow and take another deep gulp of the foul liquid.

The lack of an answer caused Isabela to scoot a little too close to the warrior. "Cheer up," she said, "Brooding only works for hot men with dark pasts. Pretty girls should be happy."

Growling, Hawke replied, "I'm sorry I'm not a dark, handsome man."

The pirate smiled seductively. "Oh?" she said while getting up. Quickly, she snuck up behind Hawke and wrapped her arms around the warrior before whispering seductively, "But women are so much more delightful."

"I'm not nearly drunk enough," said Hawke as she removed Isabela's hands.

The woman shrugged, and reseated herself. "I suppose we'll just have to work on that, won't we?" She gestured to the barmaid. "More drinks for my friend here!" Not interested in arguing anymore, Hawke accepted the drinks. At least they'll serve their purpose.

It was a little after midnight when Hawke finally decided that she'd had enough. Isabela spent most of the time sharing her exploits, as a pirate and a woman. The other swordswoman would mostly nod, only understanding half of what the brunette said. By then, she was far beyond drunk and swung side to side when trying to get up.

"You're smashed now. Care to take me up on that offer?" Isabela teased.

Inhibitions gone and feeling aggressive, Hawke grabbed the pirate and planted a sloppy kiss on her lips. "Might as well seize the opportunity," she said while smirking at the rogue's surprised face. Isabela quickly recovered however, and the pair found their way into her room.

Hawke woke up in the morning with a massive headache and the urge to vomit. Scrambling for the nearest chamber pot, she emptied the contents of her stomach into whatever was available. Looking around, she noticed that her surroundings didn't match the dirty hovel she'd been living in for the past year. This was not her uncle's place, and she was naked. What in Maker's name did she do now? The last time she woke up with such a hangover resulted in the discovery of a red tattoo across her face that looked like a permanent smear of blood. Mother was less than pleased.

"Bad headache?" Isabela's head popped up from the bed as she propped herself with her elbows.

"Hell," Hawke swore. She couldn't quite remember the exact details, but recalled enough to associate the night with a sense of pleasure.

"Regrets already? You're not even dressed." The Rivaini laughed at the warrior, who began searching the room for her clothes.

"Only if you make a big deal out of this," Hawke grumbled. Both of them clearly knew this a casual encounter. Hawke just didn't want the whole world to know. "If you feel you must share, please do not go into detail, especially with Bethany." Maker knew the mage would never let this go.

Isabela lightly chuckled. "Your secret's safe with me." She leaned forward, bringing her knees to her chest while watching Hawke hastily dressed. "But if you ever want to do it again, you know where to find me." The pirate smirked with pleasure as Hawke paused in her task.

The warrior contemplated the possibility. Sex was a good way to relieve stress, and Isabela wanted nothing more from her. "Maybe," she said before walking out the door.

Bethany never did let her sister live down the fact that she slept with the Rivaini pirate. The moment she got home from the first night, the mage questioned her about her whereabouts the previous night.

"You reek of ale." A moment passed as Bethany processed the information. "You were at the Hanged Man," the younger girl accused.

"So what?" replied the warrior. "If you recall, Mother kicked me out after our little fight about that book of yours."

"It was Father's book." Bethany resentfully quipped.

Sighing and raising her hands in surrender, Hawke said, "Fine, I don't want to argue about it anymore." She grabbed a bucket full of water and a rag in preparation to wash herself.

Her younger sister didn't let the topic go. "But you stayed in the Hanged Man. We're still saving for the expedition."

"I didn't have to pay for a room, alright?" said Hawke. To emphasize her point she turned to face the mage while scrubbing her neck.

"You couldn't drink all night." Bethany stared at her sister. "Wait," she said, "your hair is all messed up, and you were at the Hanged Man all night." A look of shock passed through the girl as she accusingly pointed at Hawke. "You were with that pirate."

"I, umm," she stuttered. The warrior turned red. If it were anyone else, she'd have ignored the words, but this was her sister, and the mage was the last person in Thedas who should know about her sex life.

Bethany broke out in laughter. "This is classic." She tried to muffle the sounds. "I never pegged that woman as your type." Bethany suddenly stopped laughing and a pensive look appeared on her face. "I didn't think you thought of women that way at all."

"I was drunk and we had fun. That is all." Hawke stated. "Look, are you going to drill me about all the dirty details, because I can describe them if you want, or will you just let me wash myself." She hoped this would get Bethany to leave her alone. It worked.

"Eww, no!" said the mage as she quickly rushed out of the room with a pink tinge on her face.

* * *

So began the relationship, if one could call it that. On particularly draining days, Hawke would stop by at night to relax. It wasn't as if she hadn't done something like this before. The barracks in Cailan's army got lonely, and soldiers did _creative_ things to fill that void.

Isabela wasn't without benefits. All that bragging of her sexual exploits was not baseless. She was exactly as good as she implied. Neither did the pirate turn Hawke away at the end of their passionate sessions, which especially helped on the days where she wanted some time away from her family. Sometimes they talked; most times, they didn't. It was a comfortable arrangement.

It didn't stop Bethany from prodding Isabela with inane questions, and the Rivaini was more than willing to share. Once, while the warrior stopped by Lady Elegant's stall for potions, the two got into an interesting conversation.

"Women are good for six." Hawke heard Isabela say as she neared their small band of companions, who were waiting in an out-of-the-way corner of the busy bazaar.

Bethany shot her sister an utterly scandalized look, and Merrill stared at the pirate with the curiosity of a newborn kitten. "Six? Which six?" asked the elf.

"Isabela!" Hawke managed to intervene. She glared at the others in the group, especially Varric, who appeared positively entertained. Even Aveline seemed a little too interested in the banter.

The Rivaini laughed, sauntered up to the warrior with that sly smile of hers and slowly drew her hand across Hawke's chest piece. "Come now, Hawke, you could elaborate," she said teasingly.

One could swear that Ander's ears perked up with that comment. The warrior's face heated up, a result of anger not embarrassment, or so she would later claim. Once again, Hawke tried to reassert her dominance. "Isabela," she chastised. Her eyes warned the rogue of consequences for going too far.

Uninterested in a fight, the pirate backed off. She would have her chance later, but now she was having far too much fun testing Hawke's tolerance. Not to mention the fact that Aveline was now glaring at their leader with a mix of disapproval and concern.

"I don't understand; how could Hawke elaborate?" Merrill innocently asked, breaking all tension in the group. Varric began laughing so hard, he nearly fell to the ground. Meanwhile the naive blood mage looked at each of the faces of her friends trying to figure out what was going on.

"Maker's breath," Hawke swore. She covered her eyes with her hand and inhaled deeply. "Let's just move on." With the glare that Aveline was giving her, the warrior knew she would end up lectured by the guardswoman. Knowing the redhead, Hawke would be hearing from her mother later as well.

They finally completed their mission. The trip to save the Viscount's son was productive at least, if not a little too messy for Hawke's taste. The Winters proved to be quite uncooperative, and had a lot of mercenaries at their disposal. Hawke's group fought for what felt like an eternity. In the end, they all just decided to camp somewhere on the Wounded Coast for a couple hours. Everyone was exhausted after the battle and needed to rest. Anders was able to heal whatever major wounds came about. They left a few nasty scars on the body, but it was better than dying.

It was then that Aveline brought her to the side and began her lecture. "You're doing something really stupid."

"I thought you supported saving the Viscount's son," countered Hawke.

"That is not what I'm talking about, and you know it." She crossed her arms and shot her fellow warrior one of her stern, disapproving glares.

Suddenly feeling like a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar, Hawke decided there was something interesting to stare at on the ground. "It's just sex," she mumbled.

Shaking her head in disappointment, Aveline replied, "You're walking a thin line Hawke. It's never just sex."

Touched by her concern, Hawke looked up straight into Aveline's eyes. "I'll be fine; I swear."

The guardswoman shot Hawke a pointed look. "Alright, I'll accept that _for now_," she said, emphasizing the last two words.

Exhaling a breath she didn't know she was holding, Hawke asked her friend for one last thing. "Please don't tell my mother." Leandra would certainly disapprove, and she did not need to know those details of Hawke's life. Aveline nodded her head in silent agreement, promising temporarily honor the request of her friend.

The group finally returned to the Viscount's keep. They got the reward, and Hawke was one step closer to becoming a partner in Bartrand's expedition. Varric had heard a few rumors for work around the city, but that night they needed rest.

Unexpectedly, the warrior found herself sitting in Isabela's room, waiting for the rogue to show up with whatever reason she called Hawke here. As soon as the door opened, the pirate jumped onto Hawke, ferociously kissing her mouth, and forcing her into the bed.

Though surprised, the warrior recovered enough to push Isabela away. "What is this about?" she demanded.

"Well, you looked especially tense today." The Rivaini smirked. "And it's a bit of revenge for trying to order me around." Hands shoved the warrior back down on the bed. "I'm always on top."

Surprisingly, Hawke didn't feel angry, upset or even annoyed. She was amused by Isabela's declaration and suddenly wanted to challenge it. Deftly maneuvering her hips, she flipped the pirate onto her back and switched their positions. "Not if I can help it," she said.

They spent the next hour wrestling for control, both literally and figuratively. Isabela was more experienced, but Hawke did have a few tricks of her own, some of which she learned from the pirate.

The two ended up absolutely exhausted, lying on the floor and looking up at the ceiling. "Tie?" Isabela offered.

Not wanting to move, the Ferelden agreed. "Tie," she said.

The pirate propped herself up on her elbow and faced the warrior. "Why do you act like such a prude? I thought you didn't care if I told." She slowly traced her fingers up Hawke's stomach, causing her to quiver.

"I'm not a prude." Hawke defensively replied. "I'm just a private person, and I specifically recall telling you not to share details with Bethany."

"Bah!" Isabela scoffed. "You are too protective of that girl. Let her go out and have some fun. Get her a night at the Blooming Rose."

"No!" the warrior nearly screamed. The idea was wrong on so many levels.

"Would you prefer that I bed her instead?"

Hawke shot up and pinned Isabela below her. "Don't you dare touch my sister," she growled.

Defiantly, the pirate glared at the warrior. "You can't protect her forever. Let her discover things for herself, or she'll be trapped in your shadow forever." She was right, and Hawke hated it. Not wanting to talk anymore, the warrior got dressed and left.

She sulked for days after that. It was their first fight. Isabela had no right to lecture her on how to treat her sister. Then again, she didn't have a right to control the mage either. The pirate did tag along for a few more missions and was always ready with a dirty joke or throwing knife, but she didn't talk to Hawke for a while.

Things stayed in a tense balance while the party continued to adventure across the darkest corners of Kirkwall. When they finally began speaking again, it was done with short sentences. Nothing was really resolved until they met Sister Petrice. Ketojan was exactly what Hawke wanted to protect her sister from becoming. For a while, she felt justified in attempting to free the Qunari mage.

Then he chose to die. As a mage, he was so dedicated to the Qun and its fear of magic that he killed himself. Hawke wasn't afraid that Bethany would be like that. She was smart enough to be on her own, and survive. It was just that Bethany was still a mage, and Hawke wouldn't know what she would do if anything were to happen. Suddenly, the warrior felt like she was like the chain that hung across Ketojan's throat, but it was Bethany that she bound.

Hawke sat on the stairs outside her uncle's home. Her head rested on folded hands, which were supported by her elbows. "Dammit," she said to herself. The Ferelden could not go the Hanged Man now, not when they were so close to their desired goal of fifty sovereigns and every copper counted. Plus, Isabela was there, probably entertaining herself with one of the other patrons. If Hawke was lucky, the rogue was over at the Blooming Rose, enjoying their services.

"Oh sod it!" she cursed. Maybe Varric would like to share a drink tonight to celebrate their victory, or share a story. She walked over to the tavern, hoping for free drinks and a few tall tales. To her disappointment, Varric was out. Hanging her head in disappointment, Hawke prepared to leave.

"Leaving already?" said a distinct Rivaini voice from the edge of the room.

The warrior turned around to see none other than Isabela, waving a tankard in her hand. She sighed, knowing that she had not returned since leaving that night. Having nothing better to do, the Ferelden walked over and sat down next to the pirate. "I hoped you'd be at the Blooming Rose tonight."

"Aww, Hawke," Isabela said with a joking voice. "That hurts my feelings you know. I'm beginning to feel hated."

"I don't hate you Isabela." Hawke admitted.

Though a little surprised, the pirate accepted the implied apology. Smiling, she leaned in close and whispered into the warrior's ear. "Does this mean we can have sex again?"

The Ferelden chuckled. Isabela would never change. "Only if you buy me a drink," she replied.

"Just one?" said the Rivaini. "You're cheaper than the whores at the Rose." She waved to the barmaid for more ale.

"Only for you," the warrior joked. Isabela laughed. At the time, the words didn't seem so important, but thinking back, Hawke knew she truly meant it.

"You know I wouldn't hurt Bethany right?" asked Isabela later that night. They had finished _making-up _and were sitting in her room, drinking some mead. "Not on purpose," she added.

Hawke looked over at her companion. "Yeah," she confirmed. Leaning back, she took a small sip from her cup. "I've protected her my whole life. It's just hard to accept that she won't need me anymore."

"Girl's grow up, Hawke," said the pirate. "You know that."

The warrior sighed. "I know," she replied, "and I'm sorry."

Isabela smiled as a small sense of victory rose in her chest. She walked to the warrior and firmly seated herself on Hawke's lap. Leaning in close, she said, "I prefer actions over words."

The wily smile on the pirate's face made Hawke a little nervous as she instinctively wrapped her hands around Isabela's upper thighs. "What do you want me to do?" Instantly, she regretted saying it.

"Well, there are a few games I'd like to play," said the pirate as she grabbed a length of rope.

Fear rose up in the warrior. "Umm," she stuttered, "Isabela?"

"Don't worry Hawke," she said. "You'll enjoy it." The smile never left her face.

* * *

_A/N – I do hope everyone is enjoying this. Admit it; no one initiates a long-term romance with Isabela at first. She certainly wouldn't let it get to that point if she knew. It's just one of those things that must happen over time._

_Please Review_


	2. Graffiti on the Banister

_A/N: I changed the title to something less misleading. The previous one rather implied a humorous style whereas it has turned out quite the opposite. _

_The original plan had all of Act II into one chapter, but it has turned out far longer than expected, because Isabela is just so significant in Act II._

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Chapter 2: Graffiti on the Banister

The trip down the Deep Roads was nothing short of an unmitigated disaster as far as Hawke was concerned. She should never have brought Bethany along. It was lucky that Anders was there to lead them to the wardens, but her sister's fate remained unknown for months. Sure, there was profit, but if she could trade it all to have Bethany back, then she would have.

So many scenarios played through her head. All the "what-if" and "if-only" situations repeated themselves to her, and every one of them chipped at her heart. She should've brought along more people. Merrill, or Fenris would've been useful in the Deep Roads, but the truth was that she didn't. Bartrand was a cheap bastard and wanted as light of a crew as possible. They only had enough supplies for Hawke, Bethany and one other.

At the time, Anders was the most obvious choice. He had experience in the Deep Roads and battling darkspawn. He was a warden after all. Of course, maybe Hawke didn't even need to bring Bethany. She could've stayed home with their mother.

Then there was Mother to consider. Her face upon Hawke's return was absolutely heartbreaking. For weeks, the woman could barely look at her oldest daughter. In her mind, Leandra knew that there was nothing Hawke could have done, but her heart blamed her. It was a horrible feeling. If only Hawke listened when Leandra begged to have Bethany stay. None of it would have happened. She would never have fallen to the corruption.

The least Hawke could do now was to get her the Amell estate. It wouldn't make up for losing Bethany, but it was something. Moving-in felt empty. Leandra slowly adjusted to the thought that her youngest daughter was no longer around. With time, she was able to forgive Hawke for taking Bethany along. Leandra knew that the girl wanted to go, and there was little her eldest child could do to change her mind.

Her mother's forgiveness was comforting, but Hawke couldn't forgive herself. Nightmares of the Deep Roads haunted her sleep. Her sister's corrupted body would appear and cry out for Hawke to save her. The warrior would desperately scramble towards her dying sister, but the harder she tried the further away Bethany would be.

After a while, she just gave up on sleeping. Most nights, Hawke stayed up as long as possible, reading whatever books were available on her shelves, or alphabetizing her library. Often she'd drink herself into a stupor, if only to avoid the nightmares that came with sleep.

She avoided her companions for those first few weeks. They all stopped by with they're sincerest condolences for the loss of her sister. Even Fenris offered to talk, if she ever needed. However, Hawke was bent on staying alone. It got to the point where she found herself just lying on the bed, staring at the canopy for hours on end.

Leandra knew it had to stop. One day, she grabbed the warrior's clothes, and threw it on her daughter. "Get up," she ordered with the authority befitting her noble heritage. "It's been weeks, and my daughter is not going to lie around, waiting to die." She drew back the curtains to let the light flood in. "You are getting dressed and going outside today."

Hawke rolled over to hide her face. "I don't want to."

"Too bad," said the older woman. Leandra grabbed the young woman's ear and literally dragged her out of the bed.

Hawke howled in pain as her mother pulled her to a prepared bath. The warrior grumbled discontentedly as she was forced to strip and jump in.

"Wash up, and make yourself presentable." She ordered.

The disgruntled daughter unhappily scrubbed her arm. "Where am I going anyway?"

"You're friend Isabela left a book here last time she visited. You're going to give it back to her." Her mother grabbed the washcloth and began roughly scrubbing her back.

Cleaned up and properly dressed, Hawke plodded out into Hightown prepared to meet Isabela in the Hanged Man. For the first time in a long time, she saw the sky. It could have been beautiful, if it were not for the mass of gray clouds. She trudged through the snow, grumbling about her unreasonable mother. Leandra could have chosen a better day to send her out on an unnecessary errand.

Finally making it to the Lowtown tavern, Hawke brushed off white crystals from her clothes as she entered. It began snowing while she was walking over, so now she was cold. The warrior spotted Isabela rolling her eyes as another patron tried to woo her. "Isabela," she called out while waving the pirate's book.

Seizing the opportunity to escape, Isabela quickly excused herself to escape the drunken man and his dreadful poems. "Hawke," she greeted. "It's nice to see you out and about."

"Ah, well," said Hawke, "Mother made me come to return this to you." She handed over the book.

Isabela raised an eyebrow in curiosity as she studied the cover. "That's very kind of you, but this isn't mine."

"What are you talking about?" Hawke grabbed the text back and stared at it. Did she grab the wrong book? It didn't look like one from her library.

"Come now, Hawke," said Isabela, "When have you ever seen me read about anything besides sex?"

"Keeping the Line: The Principles of Law Making," she read aloud. This definitely belonged to Aveline, but why would Mother send her to return it to Isabela? Shaking her head, Hawke decided not to dwell on the mystery. "Andraste's ass," she cursed, because now she left the house for nothing. The warrior sat down and gestured for the pirate to do the same. She was still cold and could use a stiff drink.

"So, how have you been?" asked Isabela as she slid into the seat.

Hawke shrugged, not really wanting to discuss her feelings. She stared at the bottom of the tankard, while thinking of Bethany.

Unwilling to let the mood darken further, Isabela put her hand on Hawke's thigh. "I take it you're still here for more than just drinks."

The warrior looked down at the hand, seriously debating the offer. Was she ready to go along with Isabela, or should she sit here and sulk more? "Isabela, I'm not-"

Irritated, the pirate grabbed Hawke's hand and got up. "Come on." She dragged the warrior out of her seat.

"But," the former refugee weakly protested. She was unsure. Part of her wanted to go with Isabela, but part of her felt guilty for having the choice.

Regardless, Isabela managed to pull the warrior into her room. Gently, she pushed Hawke back until the woman was trapped on the bed under the pirate. "Just relax," ordered Isabela as she slowly kissed the warrior's neck. It was strange; the Rivaini was somehow softer that day. Their previous encounters were mostly rough groping and sometimes scratching if one of them was in the mood, but this was different. It was gentle, almost like a lover's embrace.

Not wanting to fight anymore, Hawke wrapped her arm around the pirate and caught her lips in a deep kiss. No power in Thedas could undo the past. Here in Isabela's arms, she could forget about Bethany. Kissing those lips allowed her to let go of Leandra's broken cry of despair when she heard that her youngest daughter would not return home. Touching those arms drew her mind away from the haunting nightmares. This was what Hawke needed.

In the morning, the warrior strapped on her boots. "Thank you," she said. The night turned out pleasantly well. Tenderness was not Isabela's style, but what she did was particularly nice, and Hawke appreciated the effort.

The pirate leaned forward with an unusually serious expression. "I'm sorry about Bethany."

"I know," replied Hawke. "Thanks Isabela." She finished dressing and walked out. For the first time in months, she felt ready to face the world again.

* * *

Three more months passed before they heard that Bethany survived the joining. The youngest Hawke sister sent their mother a letter, informing the woman of her well being and new life. There was no message to her older sister, however. Hawke got the feeling that Bethany resented her for walking away freely.

Leandra comforted her eldest daughter. Bethany would forgive Hawke in time. Until then, the mother was satisfied knowing that the young mage was alive. Now, she was preoccupied with reintegrating their family to the upper echelons of Kirkwall.

Their sudden move to Hightown sparked a curious audience. However, the nobles were wary of the return of the Amells. It helped the transition that they were not really of new blood, though the family name was now Hawke. Leandra was able to entertain the few callers they had while her daughter wallowed in self-pity, but as time wore on, the other nobles had grown impatient with the absent adventurer.

Finally, the Rosencrans insisted on their presence at a dinner party. In the past, the two families were close, and occasionally intermarried. Now that Hawke had begun showing her face at some of the social events, she had to go to this party. Leandra was apparently childhood friends with Lady Rosecrans, and it was apparently rude to refuse the Lady's invitation.

Hawke and her mother sat in the dining hall with the Rosencrans across the table. They were served a number of delicacies while Leandra chatted with the two older nobles. This left Hawke to converse with their son, who happened to be about the same age.

Torvel Rosencrans was a good-looking man of moderate skill. He kept a job as a public administrator for the city. While important, it was hardly a noteworthy profession. "I'm told you restored the family fortune by venturing into the Deep Roads," he said.

Hawke nodded her head. "Yes," she replied tersely. The cost of that fortune was great, and while she hated discussing the topic, it was unwise to act crudely toward her host.

"It must have been quite the adventure." Torvel looked a little nervous. He was, of course, somewhat intimidated by the woman who supposedly killed a thousand darkspawn, if the tales could be trusted, and seven rock wraiths while venturing through the darkened pits of the forgotten Dwarven Thaigs.

The warrior forced a smile to appear, though she was growing irritated with his chosen topic. She couldn't blame him though. The Amell's return thanks to a journey into the Deep Roads was the most significant news in Hightown since the Viscount's son safely returned from his kidnapping. Unfortunately, no other significantly juicy gossip has since turned up. "It was," she said. "Though, it is an experience that I would not like to repeat."

"I see," he replied, taking the subtle hint to drop the subject. "Well then," he said in another attempt at small talk. "What do you do for fun?"

Hawke took a sip of wine, and relaxed a bit. "Not much," she said, "I read sometimes." She didn't mention that much of her time was spent adventuring with her companions across the city, though she was sure that it was no secret thanks to Varric's wildly exaggerated tales.

He laughed, clearly thinking she was joking, and perhaps she was to an extent. "Is that so? What do you read then?"

"Mostly historical texts and theories," the warrior nonchalantly replied. "Sometimes, I get a few myths as well."

"Such as?" asked Torvel, who was now genuinely curious as to what could catch the attention of such a riveting adventurer.

Amused by the unrepentant curiosity on his face, Hawke replied, "I've read two of the four volumes on the history of the Chantry by a Brother Genetivi. I've also found a few interesting manuscripts with theories on the ancient history of Kirkwall."

"Fascinating," he nearly screamed. "I shall have to look into those books myself."

They spent the rest of the evening discussing various books and stories the two had read. Torvel had an interest in sea-faring adventure novels, which tempted Hawke to recommend a few from Isabela's collection. Fortunately, she did not.

Leandra seemed somewhat vexed by the time they returned home. Her daughter, however, was unable to figure out why, until the older woman finally confronted her about the night. "How did you like Torvel?"

Hawke shrugged. She could not see how he was significant. The man did not talk to her mother that much, and could not possibly have offended her without Hawke knowing. "He is alright."

Finally, Leandra relented to share her thoughts. "Lady Rosencrans would like to arrange for a marriage between the two of you."

Shocked, Hawke asked, "What did you say?"

"I told her I wasn't sure if that was wise." The elder woman stated.

Though grateful, the warrior was curious to what prompted that response. Her mother had expressed the wish to find her a husband before. "Why?"

Leandra sighed. "I don't want you to marry someone you don't really love. I'm sure young Torvel is pleasant enough, but whether or not you truly love him is something else." She sat down on a chair beside the fire, and beckoned for her daughter to do the same. "And, I know there is someone else you're interested in?"

The warrior swore she saw a light sparkle in her mother's eyes at that moment. Nervously, she fidgeted with the evening dress she wore. "I, umm…" There wasn't anything to say. She hardly considered the pirate as a potential spouse of any sort. It was practically impossible to imagine. "Not really," she said, more for herself than for her mother.

"Oh, but I was under the impression that Isabela meant quite a bit to you." Leandra wore an amused smile on her face as she calmly stared at her daughter for a response.

Hawke nearly choked at her mother's words. The warrior nervously laughed as she decided that staring at the floor would bring her less humiliation than meeting the older woman's eyes. "Who told you?"

"No one really," she replied. "Do you think me so senile that I do not notice the comings and goings of my own daughter? You went to the Hanged Man quite often in the dead of the night while we lived with Gamlen." Leandra absently brushed off some lint from her dress as she continued to explain. "It wasn't until Aveline asked me to have you return a book to Isabela that I understood. You did not come back until the morning."

"Isabela and I aren't like that," said Hawke, desperately hoping that her mother would understand. "We're not – I mean," she paused. What could she say that would truly explain their relationship without being too blunt? "It's complicated," she finally said.

Leandra accepted the words with a smile on her face as she slowly lifted her daughter's chin so their eyes would meet. "Love always is, dear. You'll work it out in time." With that, the conversation ended. Both women got up to retire to their rooms. However, before they left the lounge, the older woman chuckled at one of her personal thoughts.

Curious, Hawke asked, "What is it?"

The woman looked fondly at her daughter. "I do suppose that I should not hold out for grandchildren then?"

"Mother!" screamed the warrior. If it were anyone else, Hawke would have laughed, but this was her mother, a sweet old woman who liked to tease her children far too much.

Truthfully, Leandra was unsure if the Rivaini was best for Hawke's interest. Isabela made no effort to hide her personal tendencies and exploits, even around the old woman. She could never offer the young woman the stability a proper man could. However, despite all that, the pirate was the only one who could draw Hawke out of her shell while she isolated herself in misery. For that reason, the mother knew Isabela was more important to her daughter than the young woman realized herself.

She had no wish to force a husband upon her daughter. Maker knew she didn't react too well to that situation herself. Hawke would marry if it would please her mother, but she would not be happy, and happiness was exactly what the woman wanted for her child. If Isabela could make her daughter happy, then Leandra would voice no objections.

* * *

Three years after the Deep Roads expedition, things in Kirkwall began to change. The Viscount desperately tried to balance the different powers influencing the city, while his office was the only thing keeping everything in place. Anyone could tell that his tentative juggling of the volatile forces was only a temporary solution at best, and now everything was beginning to unravel around him.

Hawke was genuinely surprised that none of her companions had left Kirkwall within those three years. Each of them stayed in their own way, even Isabela did not leave for more than a couple of weeks. The woman did drag Hawke along whenever she found a clue on that relic of hers. Most times, it ended up in an embarrassing failure. Sometimes it turned out far more dangerous than originally thought. The warrior reflected on being poisoned by a giant spider. Since Hawke was the only one of their small band of friends that participated for that particular trip, Isabela was forced to treat her.

She was stuck in bed for two weeks after that. The pirate visited occasionally, though she was often met with a stern glare from Leandra, who was seemed somewhat angry at the fact that Isabela nearly killed her daughter on some fool's trip. The rogue managed to brush off the anger. She did feel somewhat guilty for leading them into a potential death trap with no warning. To make up for it, she wrote a note and left it at Hawke's bedside. That had to be worth something.

All the warrior got from the experience was, "Sorry. I was expecting treasure, not spiders. Get well soon. Love, Isabela." Hawke sighed. Why did she let the Isabela drag her into those things anyway?

Refusing to dwell on the subject, Hawke got dressed for her meeting with the Viscount. The tensions in the city were nearing a breaking point, and Hawke had a reputation for solving difficult situations. The warrior was unsure of how she could help. Her solutions usually ended with new blood stains on her armor, most of which had Bodahn complaining about how difficult it was to clean.

She continued on anyway, only to be informed that the Arishok wanted to speak with her. The Viscount was suspicious, but had little choice. The Qunari had been on their docks for far too long, yet they did not have the resources to expel the foreigners. As long as everything bore the semblance of peace, the Viscount could do nothing.

Hawke felt curious. Her last visit with the Arishok was not pleasant to say the least. At least he only expressed his displeasure through words over actions. She did not want to end up on the wrong end of his sword. The massive creature could probably rip her head off with his bare hands.

His request for an audience was unusual. The warrior supposed he had some sort of respect for her for successfully killing most of the Tal-Vashoth along the Wounded Coast. Still, Hawke was wary, so enlisted the help of whoever seemed available. The Qunari seemed to like Fenris last time, and Aveline had the guard behind her. Isabela blatantly refused to help Hawke out. It made her feel a little resentful, seeing as how she often went out of her way to aid the Rivaini for other things. Though disappointed, at least two people chose to accompany her into the compound.

The soldiers there stood stoically while their leader explained that he merely requested a meeting only as a courtesy to one who proved herself worthy. It wasn't his problem that some thief stole a deadly poison, because he would not die from it. In his opinion, the city was already well on its path to destruction. The saar-qumek would only speed the inevitable.

Cursing, Hawke led her group out as fast as possible. Aveline quickly ran off to give orders to the guardsmen in preparation for the worst. The two remaining warriors headed out to search for Javaris.

It took the whole day and went well into the night, but they managed to stop the poison from spreading too much. Sadly, a part of Lowtown was affected before anyone could stop the crazy elf woman, who stole the formula, but at least the majority of Kirkwall remained unaffected.

Hawke went home completely exhausted and more than ready to sleep. She walked into the house only to find Isabela carving something into the banister. "What are you doing?"

"Making this place more interesting," she nonchalantly replied. Quickly putting away her knife, she turned to face the home's owner with a sultry smile.

Ignoring the blatant look of lust, Hawke moved to inspect Isabela's work. "Is that...?" The warrior glared at the pirate. "Who carves that into a stairwell?"

Isabela shrugged as if it didn't matter. "I just did." She flashed the warrior yet another mischievous smile.

Too tired to argue, Hawke just closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. Deciding to move on, she said, "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I thought it was obvious. I'm here for sex." The Rivaini woman seductively leaned towards her companion just barely stopping before they could touch. Her warm breath tickled the warrior's skin as amber eyes locked with Hawke's own.

While tempting, Hawke truly was tired. "How do you even have the energy? We've been fighting for hours." Isabela had rejoined them after the warriors left the Qunari compound and continued to help until they finished dealing with the elf. It was a miracle that all of them survived with few injuries.

"I'm always up for sex." The pirate circled around Hawke like a predator, and slowly drew her hand across the warrior's abdomen. "Will I get some tonight, or will I have to go all the way to the Blooming Rose?" she whispered into the warrior's ear.

The touch made Hawke shiver as desire erupted in the pit of her stomach. "No!" She grabbed Isabela's arm, refusing to let her walk out. No one else would have the pirate tonight. It didn't occur to her at the time, but this was the first time the warrior had ever truly wanted Isabela to herself. The thought of the Rivaini at the Rose raised a sense of possessiveness in her; one she knew would be unwelcome should the other woman ever find out.

The rogue looked pleased at how Hawke pinned her down on the bed. Exhaustion forgotten, the warrior ravished her like a bitch in heat. For once, Isabela didn't insist on being on top. She seemed to be satisfied with riding the waves of pleasure, before collapsing with a cry of ecstasy. Finally, Hawke's body could take no more, and sleep quickly followed the night's final excursion.

By the time Hawke woke up, Isabela was gone. It was better that way. She reflected on the previous evening. What in Andraste's name possessed her to act so foolishly? She never had a problem with Isabela going to the Blooming Rose before, nor was she under any illusion that their relationship was anything more. The warrior cursed at herself. It had to be that damnable Qunari poison, or her exhaustion. Nothing else could explain her erratic behavior.

Dismissing her thoughts, she quickly got dressed to meet with the Viscount. He would undoubtedly want to know why part of Lowtown was now sealed off.

The meeting went moderately well; if by well, one meant that the Viscount wanted another favor. Hawke's rapport with the Qunari seemed to make him think that she should be the one who could figure out where his missing representatives went. Of course, the warrior had a sneaking suspicion that only a certain Chantry sister would even desire to kidnap the giant grey men. Immediately, she went to Aveline after talking with the seneschal. The guard captain would most easily have authority over her supposedly corrupt men.

The pair found their way to the Hanged Man where a guardsman was flaunting his newly acquired coin, an amount far more than his salary permitted. Isabela was already there lounging by the bar with a distant look in her eyes. Concerned, Hawke walked over the pirate while indicating to Aveline that she could do what she wanted with her guardsman.

"Hey, what's with that look?" The warrior could swear that tears could burst forth from amber eyes at any moment.

The pirate shook her head in an effort to recompose herself. "Nothing, I'm fine." She took a gulp of her drink. "What brings you down here?" she asked in an effort to change the subject.

Hawke pointed at Aveline as the redheaded warrior stared down a pathetic excuse of a man. "Trouble with a guardsman," she replied. "He wasn't doing his job, and took a bribe to turn his head while guarding the Qunari." The warrior shrugged as she watched her friend roughly grab the man's collar. With the look the guard captain wore, it wouldn't be surprising if the poor sod pissed his pants.

Suddenly, Hawke recalled that she still had that little trinket she found in the tunnels while chasing after Javaris. Quickly, she searched her pack, hoping the glass didn't break during their fighting the previous night. "Ah," she declared proudly as she produced a small ship in a bottle. "I have something for you."

Isabela raised an eyebrow in curiosity. The forlorn expression was soon replaced by the excitement in her eyes. "Ooh, What this?" She held up the bottle to observe it under better light. "Oh, isn't that just the cutest thing?"

"You can't see, but below deck there is a perfect replica of you with a dozen sailors in attendance." Hawke smiled as she leaned against the bar. There was just something about seeing the pirate happy that made her feel good.

Isabela laughed. "You tease. I'm sure there isn't. It is a worthy goal to work towards, however." She smiled as she looked down at the bottle. "Thank you, Hawke. This was a thoughtful gesture."

They stared at each other for a little bit before Aveline interrupted with a cough. "If you're done flirting, we still have work to do."

Sighing, the warrior relented. "You want to come along?" she offered.

Isabela nodded, she had nothing better to do. Drinking alone just made her depressed. Sulking about her lost ship was not doing any good. It was worse than sex with a hopeless romantic. Though, at least the ale didn't want to cuddle.

* * *

Mother Petrice was a bitch in Isabela's opinion. Her absolute obsession with the so-called Qunari threat was driving the companions mad. Aveline was less than pleased to hear that even the Chantry Mother could not control the wilder elements of her deranged faction. Sebastian was simply appalled.

By the time they reached the rogue templar, he had amassed a number of fanatics and was preaching about taking arms against the heathen Qunari. The delegates were bound and gagged with chains while cuts and bruises lined their bodies as clear evidence of torture.

It was too late to save them, however. Hawke's arrival prompted Ser Varnell kill his prisoners. A fight ensued, and soon enough, the bodies of all the radicals were on the ground, including Ser Varnell's. The Viscount and his guards arrived just in time to count the dead.

When the Viscount asked what he should do, Hawke replied, "Don't bother to hide the torture. The Arishok will know anyway." There was little point in putting in the extra effort. He concurred, but asked her to inform the Arishok in turn. Hawke hated playing the messenger. Though, to her surprise, the Arishok expressed his respect for her. The truth, it seemed, meant a great deal to him.

Leandra greeted her daughter upon Hawke's return. She looked a little cross. "I've been worried sick about you. I haven't seen you since the night before last, and thought you fell to that awful poison that spread in Lowtown."

The warrior groaned. "I'm fine mother. I've been busy with the Viscount's problems."

"I see," the woman accepted. "One more thing," she said, "Why is there a vulgar carving on the stairwell?"

Hawke nervously laughed. "Ah, you see, umm…" she said. Her hand awkwardly reached up to scratch her head as she searched for a good answer.

"Does Isabela have anything to do with it?" asked the experienced mother. Leandra knew from Hawke's face that she was desperately trying to think of a lie. The girl never could deceive her. A mother always knew.

The warrior tentatively smiled, hoping her expression would lighten her mother's mood. "Yes?" she replied.

"Maker's breath, Isabela," Leandra commented to herself. "Why does she need to deface the furniture?" She turned to her daughter. "Make sure she doesn't do it again."

"I've already talked to her about it." Hawke had no idea why her mother let it go so easily. If it were Hawke, Bethany or even Carver that carved the little figure into the banister, Leandra would've scolded them for an hour before forcing them to do some horrible chore for the next month. Even as adults, she would never let them get away with anything. Why was the pirate so special?

_Please Review_


	3. Remnants of Denial

_So, this originally was a huge rehash of game events down to the word. I have no idea what I was thinking, and have hated this chapter for a very long time. It was by far the weakest chapter. Now I've rewritten the first scene, and deleted a lot of the extraneous stuff._

* * *

Chapter 3: Remnants of Denial

The small group sat in the corner of the Hanging Man playing a rather boring game of Diamondback, but the game wasn't the center of their attention. Rather, Hawke awkwardly drinking ale across the tavern with an increasingly annoyed guardsman was the real source of their entertainment for the night.

_Donnic_

It rather sounded like the end of a bad joke, and Hawke was sure she was somehow involved in the punch line. The warrior prayed to the maker that perhaps her friend would finally find her backbone meanwhile her friends continued to casually chat about her predicament.

"Do you think their talking about Aveline?" asked Merrill as she tried to organize her cards.

Isabela glanced at the pacing guard captain poorly hidden by the entrance. "I'm sure Hawke is trying," she smirked, earning a chuckle from Varric.

Anders glanced up from his cards. He could never win this game. Justice would never let him bluff. "I'd think their better off talking about kittens and puppies." At least, he'd prefer to talk about kittens. He really missed Ser Pounce-a-lot.

"Why?" asked Merrill. "Does Aveline want some?" She tried to recall if there were any around the alienage, just in case.

"I doubt it," Fenris tersely replied. He laid a few coppers on the table to call the current bet. "It is strange to see Aveline struggle over something so insignificant."

"I don't think it's that strange at all. Love is a beautiful but frightening thing." Merrill looked at him with curiosity. "Have you ever tried confessing your love to someone?"

"I…" Anger rose in his chest. "I do not recall." If he ever did try, the memories were forever lost. Still, he understood what the blood mage was trying to say, and he resented her for pointing it out.

The curious elf then turned her favorite friend and asked, "How did she confess to you?"

Taken off guard, Isabela nearly dropped her cards. "What?" She noted Varric's snort of amusement. He would pay later.

"You know," replied Merrill. "How did Hawke confess her feelings for you?"

The pirate shook her head. Oh, she did love Merrill, but the elf had the craziest ideas sometimes. "She didn't." _She'd better not._ "Hawke doesn't have feelings for me. We're just friends."

"But I thought…"

"No, Merrill," the rogue interrupted. "Sex isn't love." She smiled at the girl. "Sex is just fun." Isabela glanced at the former Fereldan to see her _date _angrily leaving. "Oh, look," she pointed out, "The big girl's toy is gone. Why don't we cheer her up?" Seeing this new side of Aveline was disturbing to say the least. The pirate wanted her man-like guard captain back, not this pathetic excuse of a woman.

* * *

Hawke received a request from Arianni, the mother to a half elf she saved over three years ago. She felt for the boy and his mother. They reminded her of her own family.

By nightfall, three volunteers had assembled for their journey into the fade and the Dalish Keeper had arrived.

It was a strange combination of people to enter the fade with Hawke. As mages, she felt Anders and Merrill would be fine. However, Isabela's presence was somewhat questionable. While the Keeper began preparations for her ritual, Hawke pulled her to the side. "Are you sure you can do this?"

Isabela shrugged. "Traipsing through dreams, why not?"

The warrior looked at her incredulously. "Keeper Marethari warned us about temptation, and I know you're not exactly the best at resisting."

"Don't be such a stick in the mud," she replied. "You never know until I try, right?"

Hawke was wary with her tone, but had no reason to leave her behind. Who knew what they would face inside the realm of dreams. She needed all the help she could get. "Fine, but try not to screw up."

* * *

Merrill was the first to offer her apologies. She felt absolutely foolish and guilty. Hawke did feel upset at first, and chastised Merrill for falling for the pride demon's deception. Still, she forgave Merrill. It was hard to be angry with someone who seemed to be the epitome of naivety. Offering the crying girl a hug, Hawke said, "I fear for you. I do not want to see you become an abomination. Anders is bad enough." She looked into Merrill's teary eyes and smiled. It helped the girl cheer up.

Facing Isabela was another matter. Hawke managed to avoid an encounter for nearly three days, but such things could not remain unsaid. The pirate had just finished talking with Merrill when Hawke approached. "We need to talk."

She groaned. "Bugger, I knew this was coming." This was the topic she had been avoiding for days. Isabela spent the time distracting herself with alcohol, jokes and a few of the workers over at the Blooming Rose. It didn't really help. "I'm sorry I abandoned you in the Fade. That was foolish of me. I mean, I didn't even get the ship in the end."

Hawke sneered. "You'd betray me for a ship!" The warrior stopped, and pinched the bridge of her nose. Isabela was ready to respond, but Hawke held up her hand to make her pause. She thought about her talk with Merrill. "No, I'm sorry. I don't really blame you. I understand what it's like to be under the influence of a demon."

"You… what? That's it? No angry rant?" Isabela whole retort was now worthless. Too bad, it was dirty too. "Are you trying to get me to jump into bed with you? Because it's working."

Hawke looked at her incredulously. "You mean you weren't before?" Now she lost her train of thought. Maker damn that pirate.

Isabela laughed. "Ah, yes, good point."

Sighing, Hawke sat down and grabbed a cup of whiskey. "I warned you before we went in, Isabela. Why didn't you listen?"

"I didn't think it was going to offer me a ship. I mean, it's a _ship_!" She thought about what it was like to sail through the open ocean, to see the clear blue water reflected by the cloudless sky, to taste of salt in the air. Isabela missed it all. This is the longest she had been portside since before her marriage.

"Isabela!" Hawke said angrily.

"Fine!" she shouted, "I'll say it again. I'm sorry. Would it even have helped?"

The warrior paused as she thought. "No," she said, "not at all." Now she felt a little bit guilty for unfairly judging the Rivaini. It shouldn't have bothered her. Isabela did exactly what she should have expected. A part of her was angry the rogue could so easily betray her. They had been through so much together, and Hawke secretly hoped that maybe Isabela felt some sort of affection for her. This was, apparently, not the case.

Hawke sighed. She didn't want to talk anymore. The warrior waved down the barmaid and ordered another flagon of whiskey. When it arrived, she poured Isabela a cup. Things happened the way they did, that was all, and dwelling on it would only lead to frustration.

The pirate warily accepted the drink. It appeared that Hawke wanted to move on, which was good, because Isabela hated lingering on negative things. Whether or not the warrior forgave her was unimportant, though she sincerely hoped that she was forgiven. As for why, she was unsure. They sat there drinking silently for a bit. Isabela grew bored, so was about to share another anecdote of her past, until a couple of hapless men walked up to them.

"Pretty ladies should never be alone." A young blonde man sidled up next to Isabela as his partner placed himself next to Hawke. The pirate was entertained and welcomed the distraction. Hawke, on the other hand, ignored their existence and continued to drink.

"Are you big boys offering us come company?" asked Isabela seductively. She examined the two. They weren't bad looking. At least, she wouldn't turn them down.

Smiling at his friend, the blonde scooted a little closer to Isabela. "It's the responsible thing to do," he replied.

His friend, a thinner man with green eyes and red hair, tried to start up a conversation with Hawke as well, but she did not deign to acknowledge him. She was preoccupied with thoughts of Isabela. They had talked about what she did in the Fade, but now what. Things felt awkward.

The pirate certainly moved on quickly enough. The blonde man leaned close to whisper into Isabela's ear. In turn, she chuckled and replied with some sort of creative euphemism in response. It annoyed Hawke, and the other man's moronic attempts at small talk did little to help.

The thin man made eye contact with his friend in an attempt to ask for help. In return, the blonde man asked Isabela, "What's wrong with your friend?"

The pirate brushed it off. "Ignore Hawke; she just woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning." She alluringly smiled and said, "You know, you look like a man who could help a girl wake up on the right side." Isabela leaned in a little too close to the blonde for Hawke's taste.

She felt more irritated with every second. The tavern smelled like stale piss and vomit. The chattering white noise assaulted her ears. She was growing impatient with the man on her left who wasn't giving up and the man next to Isabela who seemed far too interested in her chest.

Then she saw Isabela place her hand on the man's leg, a little too close to the crotch. The action pushed the warrior passed her breaking point. Hawke stood up and placed her hand on Isabela's shoulder. "Sorry boys. She's mine tonight." The warrior grabbed Isabela's arm and quickly led her out of the tavern. The pirate vehemently complained and resisted. They made it to the door before Isabela slapped Hawke.

"Are you mad?" the pirate shouted. "I'm about to get lucky." She looked back to the two confused men. They were staring back. The blonde looked hopeful, while his friend looked a little disappointed. Taking them both for herself didn't seem like such a bad idea either.

The warrior was taken aback, mostly with herself. It was as if the slap woke her from a trance. "I'm just… I don't trust them." Even if she wasn't sure of why, Hawke still wanted to justify herself. Trying to sort through the frustrating emotions running through her mind would take too long.

Isabela yanked back her arm. "Well, I've no problem with them." She turned around to head back to the table.

Hawke attempted to stop her once more. "Please don't, Isabela," she begged. The idea of those men with Isabela was just…unacceptable. "Not tonight," she finished with a bare whisper.

The pirate swung around. "Why not?" She glared at the warrior. This was the worst time for her to develop a sense of jealousy.

Scrambling, Hawke said whatever came to her mind, "To make up for leaving me in the Fade." She winced afterward, regretting what she said.

"Oh no," Isabela growled. "You do not get to use the guilt card with me, not over this!" The pirate stormed off and grabbed the blonde before heading upstairs.

Hawke gritted her teeth in anger, and then walked out of the Hanged Man. Isabela could do what she wanted, and the warrior could not control her, even though it irked her. She felt like a complete ass.

Isabela and her new man wildly fumbled into her room. She all but tore off his shirt, and he tried to unlace her complicated bodice. Her hands tangled into his hair as she forcefully kissed him.

Hawke's disappointed face flashed through her mind.

The pirate sighed as she stopped. Andraste's tits, she was so ready too, at least she wanted to be.

The man noticed her change in mood. He gently touched her shoulder and nuzzled her neck. "What's wrong?" he asked, yet showed no signs of letting up.

Isabela shrugged him off. "I'm done." She got up. "Out," she ordered.

The blonde became angry. He grabbed her roughly. "You can't just stop halfway!"

Expecting this, Isabela already prepared a small dagger and held it against the man's crotch. She understood; once started, it's hard to stop. A blade was great encouragement, however. The blonde man left faster than he came in.

The Rivaini sat in her bed for a moment. "Balls," she cursed before getting up.

* * *

Hawke was restlessly tossing in her bed. She wouldn't sleep though; she couldn't. It was maddening, so she quickly gave up on trying. The warrior got up and headed down to the library. Then she noticed the rustling of papers just below her balcony. Sneaking a quick look over, she saw Isabela rifling through her personal letters, and drawing crude pictures into the margins.

"Isabela?" Hawke slowly descended the stairs.

The pirate looked up with a pleased look on her face. "Hawke," she acknowledged.

"What are you doing here?" The warrior was so sure that Isabela would be spending the night with the men from the tavern. The fact that she was there made her feel a small surge of pride. That man wasn't good enough to satisfy her. "Wait, how did you get in?"

Isabela casually shrugged, and purposely ignored the second question. "I just wanted to look around." Sodding Hawke just had to mention the Fade. "I preferred the old place. It had… more charm."

* * *

She looked different that day. They were tracking down Hadriana, after the woman set up an ambush for the group on their way to Sundermount. During the trek, Hawke kept glancing over to the pirate wondering just what had changed.

The warrior continued to wonder as they slaughtered their way through the holding caves. After Fenris killed the magister apprentice, they all returned home, too tired to continue Merrill's quest to Sundermount that day. The elven mage was disappointed, but understood. No one could have predicted that they would be ambushed on their way to get her the arulin'holm.

Before parting, Hawke had to question the pirate about the topic that had bothered her the whole day. "There is something different about you." They were chatting alone along one of the many corridors in Lowtown. "You got new armor," concluded the woman.

"Took you this long to notice," said Isabela. The red scarf around her arm should've been a dead giveaway. It wasn't as if she really wanted Hawke to notice or anything. That morning, the pirate woke up and decided it was time for a change, and so she did.

The warrior shrugged. "I saw it this morning, but it's more than that." She casually scanned the Rivaini's body. "You're more careful, guarded even."

"That's ridiculous Hawke. I'm the same fun loving pirate you bed in your spare time," Isabela proclaimed loudly. "Speaking of sex, I'm off to the Rose." She quickly ran off with a wave goodbye. The pirate just wanted a change; the conversation she had four nights ago with Hawke had nothing to do with it, or so she reasoned to herself.

Hawke frowned at the sudden departure, but couldn't go after her. Orana, the elf slave had probably arrived in her home by now; and the warrior wanted to make sure that the girl understood her new position as a free servant in the household. If she let the girl flounder aimlessly through the house proclaiming Hawke as a new slave owner, Mother would surely have her head.

Once the warrior helped Orana settle into her new job at the estate, she struck up a conversation with her mother during dinner.

"I've been thinking that I should get remarried," said Leandra. "I've heard that pirate girl of yours talk." She smirked to watch Hawke's nearly choke on her wine. Three years, and still the girl had yet to formally introduce Isabela as anything more than a friend. It certainly didn't stop the mother from throwing her daughter several hints, however. "I'm sure you don't want your mother looking over your shoulder every time you come home," she continued, "But perhaps there is life after your children have outgrown you."

"You've been through a lot. You deserve any joy you can find." It had been years since her father passed away, and Hawke really supported the idea, though any suitor would be under intense scrutiny.

"Thank you, love." Leandra smiled graciously as she recalled her youthful romance with an apostate. "No one can ever replace your father, but it is refreshing to think I could still be courted at this age."

"Sounds like you've got someone in mind." The warrior smirked. She wanted to make sure her mother was comfortable with whomever she chose.

Leandra laughed. "Nothing I'm ready to share yet, so don't pry"

* * *

She was gone. The beautiful, loving woman was taken from this world by a madman. Hawke was too late. They found her pieced together like a nightmarish puzzle. Her last words were barely a whisper into the ears of the warrior. "You've always made me proud."

She tried not to think about it. She tried not to see her mother's head on another woman's body, those eyes that were the wrong color, or the stitches that looped around the neck. Hawke tried to remember the strong, vibrant woman she once was. Leandra Hawke would never want to be remembered as the victim of a lunatic's desire.

The funeral was a private affair. A few of the other Hightown nobles and Hawke's companions attended the ceremony outside the city walls. The Grand Cleric herself presided over the service. They lit the pyre and watched the body turn to ash. It was surreal.

Everyone offered the warrior their condolences. It was hard, but she forced herself to act grateful and proper, though everything in her screamed to run away. She wanted to wake up from this nightmare to a world where her mother was still alive, where Bethany still lived with them, and where Carver never charged into an ogre. Hawke felt like she was cursed. Everyone she loved seemed to suffer horrible fates.

She locked herself in her room the moment she got back. Everyone wanted to talk, but she didn't. There was nothing to say. Leandra was gone forever, and not even a miracle could bring her back. Hawke couldn't let it go. The image of her dead, desecrated mother rigidly attempting to walk kept playing through her mind. It was frightening to have that be the last image she had of her mother.

It made her angry too, but the blood mages were dead. The blighted assholes were nothing more than piles of unrecognizable flesh after Hawke finished. At the time, Aveline had to restrain the warrior until the walking corpse of her mother reminded Hawke of her humanity. It brought her out of the temporary rage that had taken over.

She sat on the edge of her bed, waiting for the tears to come. They didn't come when Leandra soul left its body, nor when the flames of the pyre died away. Until now, Hawke was numb. The anger was gone; it disappeared with the remnants of her mother's body. It was time to be sad, or it felt like the time at least.

Light clinking by the door was ignored. Hawke didn't acknowledge the intruder. She only knew two people who could pick locks, and only one of them would have the audacity to bother her now.

"I… uh," said Isabela, "I feel like I should say… something." She quietly slipped in, but remained at a distance.

Hawke didn't bother to look at her. She was tempted to tell the pirate to leave, but she couldn't. Isabela was special, somehow. "I know you're not good at... emotional stuff."

"At least your mother loved you. Not everyone can say that." Isabela bitterly reflected on her own mother, and then thought of Leandra. The woman was strong, a little on the sly side, but had a good heart. She loved her children, and they were lucky for it.

Hawke frowned. "So this is what it's like to be an orphan." She felt the bed sink a little as Isabela sat down next to her. The pirate wasn't close enough to touch, however. She kept her distance, perhaps out of respect for the warrior's feelings.

"Family's not just the people you're related to by blood." The Rivaini placed a hand on Hawke's. "There are other people who care about you. Like…" The hand was suddenly removed as Isabela turned away in discomfort. "Aveline," she finished. She nearly let her own name slip out. The feeling was unwelcome.

Done, Isabela attempted to get up, but the warrior quickly stopped her. "Please, don't go." She didn't want to be alone.

The pirate internally debated for a little bit, but the desperation on Hawke's face quickly drowned out any doubts. She gently held one hand as she brushed the stray hair from Hawke's face to the side. The warrior slowly turned to look at her for the first time since she entered.

"Isabela," she choked before a flood of tears rushed out. Finally, the sadness hit her like an ogre's punch. Hawke cried for what seemed like an eternity, while Isabela would hold the woman to her chest, quietly whispering that everything would be all right.

The pirate quietly tucked Hawke in once she fell asleep. The anguish that the warrior had been holding in finally came out and left her exhausted. Isabela remained next to her for a while, watching her breathe and recalling her own memories of the elder Hawke.

_Leandra rarely visited the Hanged Man. The drinks there weren't up to par with her standards, but she did visit on occasion nonetheless. There was something about the gathering of people in a common area that attracted her. The customers, though rowdy, showed at least a slight amount of respect for the older woman. That day, she dropped by with a few extra silvers and a fresh batch of cookies with the intent of talking to Isabela._

_The pirate was seated at her spot in front of the bar. She greeted Leandra with her usual sexually infused banter, which was quickly and expertly countered by the woman. The elder Hawke was quick-witted. It made Isabela like her more, though the cookies certainly helped._

"_Hawke cares about you," she said._

"_Oh?" Isabela looked at her curiously. She was aware that Leandra knew of their sexual relationship, but she didn't see how it mattered, nor did she think that Hawke thought of it as anything more than it was._

_The mother nodded. Her daughter was dense when it came to such things. She always had to be the one on the side, completely afraid of forming attachments only to lose them when moving to escape templars. "I just want to know, what is she to you?"_

_The pirate paused to think for a moment. "A tiger in bed," she laughed._

_Leandra chuckled. "I'll tell her you said that." Still, she clearly wanted a serious answer._

_Jokes aside, Hawke was more than just another sexual liaison, but to say that Isabela cared for her was a stretch. Even so, Isabela found herself grinning at her thoughts. "She's my friend."_

"_I see," said the woman. Leandra gave her a mysterious smile before getting up and excusing herself. The pirate was unsure of what the woman concluded from their brief conversation, but didn't dwell on it._

"I love you," the warrior whispered in her slumber.

It snapped Isabela out of her reverie. The words made her heart jump in fear, while a little part of her quietly wished Hawke somehow knew she was listening. The fantasy was quickly crushed, however, as she berated herself for thinking foolish things. Hawke was probably dreaming of someone or something else, perhaps her mother, or even the dog. She felt lonely; Isabela understood.

* * *

Days passed, Hawke was doing little better. The pirate stopped by hoping for a quick tumble only to find the warrior in her mother's old room, crying into a dress. She quietly entered the room. "You know she wouldn't want you to dwell like this."

Hawke nodded her head, but the tears did not stop. "I can't sleep," she said. "I came in here hoping that maybe being here would help."

"Did it?" asked Isabela.

"No," confirmed Hawke. "I just keep seeing that thing Quentin made her into, and I keep thinking of how it was my fault. I should've gotten there faster; I should've saved her."

Isabela went to kneel in front of the crying woman on the bed, and lifted her head so their eyes could meet. "What's past is past. There was nothing else you could have done."

"But I…"

The pirate placed a finger on Hawke's lips, effectively silencing the warrior. "Come on." She led Hawke out of Leandra's room into her own. "Here, sleep." She ordered as she slowly tucked the girl into bed.

Confused, Hawke looked up at Isabela. The pirate could only be there for sex. Why was she doing this? "Isabela, what are you…"

The Rivaini merely smiled. "You look like you need the sleep. I'll find some other way to entertain myself tonight."

Hawke tried to get up. She couldn't just let Isabela walk away. "I'm..." she stuttered. "Will you stay?" The request escaped her mouth before she actually thought about it, and to her surprise, Isabela agreed.

In truth, Isabela wasn't quite sure what prompted her to agree other than a certain fondness for the warrior. She wouldn't admit to anything like love. Hawke was a friend in need; that was all. Isabela merely wanted to help her sleep. She lay down next to the warrior, with her head propped on her elbow as they faced each other in the bed. "Do you have nightmares about it?"

"Yes," Hawke replied. "It's even worse than the ones I had with Bethany." She stared for a moment at the pirate across from her. "Isabela, I…" The warrior moved to touch her face, but withdrew quickly. She didn't know what she planned to say. "Thank you," she quickly blurted.

Isabela relaxed, for a moment she feared the warrior would say something regrettable. She smirked, "I'll have you pay me back soon enough."

Hawke chuckled. The smile on her face contrasted with the drying tears in her eyes.

"We can have all the dirty sex I want when you're feeling better." Isabela brushed hair out of the warrior's face in an oddly affectionate gesture. "Go to sleep," urged the pirate.

Smiling, Hawke complied and soon enough, slumber took over.

Isabela left quietly when the warrior's breathing slowed to a smooth even pace. The past few days have been especially harsh on her, and the Rivaini knew she was going to make it worse. She had found her relic. It was nearly time for her to leave, and she wasn't sure how the warrior would react. Hawke would probably help her, if only out of loyalty to a friend, but something was making Isabela stall. The pirate wanted just a bit more time to… let Hawke grieve.

The warrior threw herself into her work. Bodies of bandits began turning up in the morning. For the first time in years, criminals were afraid of the night. She cared little of her impact on crime. She went out to slaughter highwaymen, because it helped with her anger and insomnia. Sleep wouldn't come. Drinking didn't do anything anymore. The few times she could fall asleep was when Isabela would visit.

Hawke felt it. She was falling for the pirate. Perhaps she was already in love and merely in denial. Even so, it was bad. A wise person would stop seeing Isabela. The warrior was, unfortunately, not a wise person. Then there was the nagging voice of hope in her mind that planted itself there since the first night after her mother's funeral. The Rivaini woman _stayed_. She wasn't there when Hawke woke, but she stayed until the warrior fell asleep. It had to mean something; at least, Hawke hoped it meant something.

She was afraid too. Isabela made her feelings clear, and even if she wished otherwise, Hawke wanted to keep things as they were rather than lose her. She was trapped between wanting more and fearing the loss of it all. Aveline was right all those years ago; it's never just sex.

Even as she tried to sort out her feelings, Kirkwall's problems escalated. The Viscount sought out Hawke's help to convince the Arishok to return his son. The warrior saw no issue with trying. She didn't like talking to the Qunari, but this was a request from the Viscount himself. She could use the distraction anyway. At the least, she could try.

* * *

It was one disaster after another. The Qunari decided to take over Kirkwall. The attack was too organized. Clearly, the Arishok had planned it for some time. For Hawke, the timing couldn't be better. She needed the distraction. It's been a mere twenty days since Leandra's funeral, and one day since the woman she fell for abandoned her. It gave her something to do other than think about how much she currently hated Isabela for leaving them out to dry.

A day's worth of fighting and Hawke's group found themselves standing in front of the Arishok and his most elite guards. "How would you see this conflict resolved without it?" he asked.

"I believe I can answer that," called a familiar Rivaini accent. Isabela walked up to Hawke with that smug smile of hers. "It took me a while to get back, what with all the fighting everywhere. You know how it is."

Hawke was speechless. She was back. A small part of her leapt for joy at seeing the pirate standing next to her. "I thought you'd be long gone by now." Any anger, pain or regret was replaced with pure relief. Maybe she meant something to the pirate after all, or perhaps the woman truly did have a good heart and Hawke's faith in her was not unfounded. The fact that she was standing there, in the throne room, was all that mattered.

"This is your damned influence, Hawke. I was halfway to Ostwick before I knew I had to turn around. It's pathetic." She regretted coming back. It was probably one of the dumbest decisions she's made in her life.

The Arishok carefully lifted the relic and passed it to a subordinate. "The relic is reclaimed. I am now free to return to Par Vollen – with the thief." He turned his massive head to look at Isabela. Hawke instinctively positioned herself between them.

"Oh no, no, no," said Aveline. "If anyone kicks her ass, it's me." She was going to make sure the Rivaini spent a lot of time in one of the Keep's jail cells. It'd be a good chance for Isabela to reflect on her actions.

Then came the challenge, a duel for the woman. It was almost romantic.

Of course, Isabela objected. No one should take her place. She didn't want anyone else to risk themselves for her in a foolish attempt to free her. Isabela could take care of herself, and she especially did not want to see anything happen to Hawke. A guard had to drag her away screaming. The pirate was ready to pull out her daggers to kill the damned beast, but the glare that Hawke shot her right before made her stop.

"To the death, Arishok" The warrior moved to the middle of the room.

One sweep of the Arishok's blade nearly knocked Hawke off her feet, despite her shield. Maneuvering quickly was her only advantage, and it was not something easily accomplished in heavy armor. For a moment, she wished she had the dexterity of a rogue. At least then, she could outrun the gigantic Qunari. The battle turned into something of cat and mouse game. He would swing his weapon with incredible skill and force while she would desperately try to avoid the sharpened blade by blocking with her shield or the stronger bits of her armor.

Every clash of their swords drained her. In no time, she was fatigued, and her sword hand unwillingly loosened its grip a bit more with every blow. This would only end in her death if nothing was done. Yet nothing she thought of could help her. Maker damn Isabela for creating this mess.

She should've simply let the Qunari take the pirate. It was too late now. Hawke skidded to the left just barely avoiding two blades slicing down through the air. Even if she were to attempt to withdraw now, the Arishok would probably kill her anyway. Regardless, Hawke knew she wouldn't quit now. Against all logic, she had fallen in love with Isabela and was not about to let her go.

The warrior jumped back when the Arishok began swinging his blades in an intricate attack. It was not the first time he tried to hit her with the flurry of blades. This time, she jammed her shield into his arm in a risky maneuver. It worked. The impact of his arm against metal stunned him, but not before his blade slashed up her left arm. She was lucky it wasn't cut off. The pause was all she needed to jab her blade into the creature and sever a major artery.

The Qunari collapsed on his knees. With his final breath, he gurgled, "We shall return." Only Hawke heard him.

So she became Champion of Kirkwall, not that it did any good at all. Isabela didn't stay for more than a few minutes after Anders healed the warrior's injuries. The loss of blood made her light-headed; it was difficult to concentrate.

"That was beyond stupid," yelled Isabela.

Hawke was holding her head and tentatively trying to balance herself. "Would you have preferred me to let him have you?" she countered.

"You should've let me duel him. I don't need a hero to help me out every time I'm in a bind." The pirate could take care of herself. She'd figure out a way.

The warrior frowned. "I can't help it. I love you." There, she said it, and it was exhilarating. Isabela's reaction, however, was not one she wanted to see.

"Hawke," said Isabela. She looked directly into those hurt, unfocused eyes.

The pirate didn't need to reply; the warrior knew what her answer would be. "I'm glad you came back." The Ferelden smiled the best she could to encourage her _friend_. Her chest tightened in pain. "You saved a lot of people today." Pretending that she did not confess was the easiest way to avoid the dreaded answer.

Isabela scowled. "I didn't do it for them. I did it for you. It's always been about you." A quick peck on the cheek, and the pirate left.

"See you later?" the warrior tentatively asked. It was almost a whisper.

The Rivaini looked back one more time. "Goodbye Hawke," she said resolutely.


	4. Three Years in the Waking Sea

_A/N: Two weeks of insanity in my research lab are over. Now I have time to write again. I hope everyone enjoys my explanation of the three-year gap. This chapter features Isabela._

* * *

Chapter 4: Three Years in the Waking Sea

Isabela bought her way onto a ship bound for Amaranthine. She didn't want to stay in Kirkwall anymore. No, she couldn't stay anymore. Hawke was there, and Castillon's agents would be as soon as the city recovered. It was easier to run away. She found herself in the Pearl in Denerim, nursing yet another mug of ale and hoping to forget the disaster with the Qunari. More than that, she hoped that a few drinks and a couple of whores would help lift her spirits a bit.

A mercenary approached her; at least, he looked like a mercenary. He had his eye on the pirate the entire evening, and even refrained from going with one of the women at the establishment. "I don't believe we've met, are you new?"

Isabela smirked. He looked good for a tumble, but then Hawke's confession echoed in her mind. She wasn't drunk enough to forget yet, apparently. Well, there was that, and she was actually here for another reason. "Sorry, I don't work here."

He shrugged in turn. "That's alright," he said, "We can rent a room for an hour."

The pirate laughed. "Perhaps later," she replied. As tempting as the offer was, she knew what she wanted, and that wasn't to have sex until she finished at least three more whiskeys.

"You're playing too hard to get for a whore in a whore house." He grabbed her arm roughly and leaned into her face.

She kicked him in the shin and snapped her arm back. "I told you I'm not interested." All she wanted to do was get drunk and have sex in that order. An insistent wanker who couldn't wait his turn would probably shoot too quickly anyway.

"Bitch," he yelled before taking a swing at her.

Isabela dodged it with ease. Quickly, she unsheathed a dagger and pinned him across a table. The proprieter smiled and nodded her head. It was a signal, indicating that the pirate was free to do what she wanted. It appeared that this man was not liked by the people in the Pearl. By then, all the customers who had not fled at the sight of the unsheathed blade were watching curiously to see what Isabela would do. She made sure to entertain by cleanly slicing off the man's breeches, and sending him on his way. Everyone seemed to approve.

"Evening," said a middle-aged man. "Aveline right? We arranged to meet?" He walked over and sat across from her.

She nodded in response. Aveline was a great alias. Surely, the guard captain wouldn't mind if someone decided create a more interesting reputation to go along with the name. The story of Aveline the sailor was far more interesting than Aveline, the Orlesian woman who gloriously died for a meaningless tournament.

The man, Orvel Yawer, was a shipping captain that occasionally transported things that weren't so legal along with his perfectly normal goods. She still had connections, and found the man searching for a new quartermaster who didn't seem to mind doing a few things on the side. It wasn't the best job she could find, but most of her former associates knew about Castillon's bounty, and they were men who would sell their mother's for a few extra coppers. Orvel was the perfect man for her needs. He knew little about the underworld beyond the occasional smuggling, and most of his crew remained in the dark about his activities.

They talked, and made arrangements for her on his ship. He didn't mind hiring a woman, there was a female cook already, though Isabela's choices in clothing made him wonder if the men would follow her. As long as Isabela could hold her own, he would keep her.

She blended in on the ship well enough. Some of the men felt a bit resentful at first, but got over it. Slicing off a finger of the first lad to disobey orders did that well enough. She was strict, but only so much as required. The men quickly learned that she was very _fun_ as well.

Isabela mostly refrained from sleeping with them, though she made multiple offers to Captain Orvel. He was decent enough for her standards. Unfortunately, he was married to the cook, who threatened to poison the both of them if anything should happen. Isabela got the hint and backed off quickly. The result was many frustrating nights filled with thinking. They weren't even good fantasies.

Still, she was out at sea again. It was the best feeling in the world. She had forgotten what it was like to have the wind and rain beat against her face during a storm, or how the smooth normal rocking became wild thrashing at the mercy of the untamable sea. This is where she belonged.

Shipping was good work, and she found herself traveling a lot. This was the perfect way to avoid Castillon. She'd never remain in the same place for too long. They would unload, reload, and then be off to the next port. The process usually took from a week to three if demand was low. It was boring compared to piracy, but it was a living. Overall, she managed to keep busy.

That is not to say that Hawke didn't haunt her, not just the bothersome guilt way either. Stories of the Champion spread throughout Thedas, mainly through ports, but also over land. Varric was excellent at propagating the legend that was Serah Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall. The stories varied, but there was always a kernel of truth to most of them. The Champion went to Kirkwall to flee the blight. She ventured into the Deep Roads and returned with treasure, and she defeated the Qunari. Little was said about the companions, though the details of a handsome dwarf seemed the most vivid.

Isabela spent most of her time trying not to reflect on what happened in Kirkwall. Every sovereign she got went to drink, whores and gambling. Even if she missed Hawke from time to time, life was comfortably empty, which was the way she wanted it to be.

"You hear about the Champion of Kirkwall?" asked Jeana, a girl in a brothel in Antiva. She was a pretty thing, only been in the business for a couple years, and a little too curious about her clients.

A young man responded to the question, "Of course. Who hasn't?" His name was Harlen, a nice lad from Ferelden. Unlike the others, he was not hardened with the life of a sailor. The boy had a crush on Isabela, something that did not escape her attention. He was a perfect example of a prime stallion, but also seemed to be quite the romantic. The pirate lamented about the last inconvenience. Had he just been someone she met at a port, she would've jumped him in a second. Sex with him would be great, but he'd misinterpret and want more. She didn't need any unnecessary attachments.

"I hear he dueled the Qunari king for a woman." Jeana's voice raised in excitement. Such a romantic sentiment was only the product of dreams and fairytales, but the whore still wished it were true. There were so few things in this world that were so beautiful.

Harlen smiled, and looked over at Isabela. "That's right," he confirmed. "I heard it was for the knight commander Aveline." No doubt, he wished to do something equally dashing to prove his love. The boy knew Isabela's tastes and preferences; it wasn't as if the pirate made any effort to hide them, but he did have his wishes. He was confident that someday she'd realize that he was the one for her, and would marry him in return. Until then, he patiently waited, and satisfied his desires at the brothels; abstinence seemed to repel Isabela more than attract her anyway.

The Rivaini tried to hide her laughter behind a smirk, but ended up giggling. The story, while a sore reminder of the true events, was made far funnier with the guard captain's name. The result was an odd coincidence corresponding to her own choice of aliases, though no one suspected for Isabela to be the actual object of Hawke's desire.

Misinterpreting the giggle for a girl's fanciful desire, Jeana continued her story. "It's said she's the fairest maiden of Kirkwall."

The image of flaming orange hair, man-like hands and a square jaw flashed through Isabela's mind. She could not hold it anymore; she broke out in laughter. The others at her table looked at her curiously. "Maiden indeed," she recovered, "I bet she wasn't one much longer after that." Everyone laughed with her.

The whore clasped her hands together in wishful thought. "I wish a man would do that for me."

Another shipmate leaned close to the woman. "You know, I'd do it for you if you do me for free." It caused everyone to chuckle, except for Jeana.

"Well, you're too ugly," she stated. "I bet the Champion is the most handsome man in…"

"Woman," Isabela unconsciously corrected. Her fellows eyed her suspiciously. Blinking, she quickly thought of an excuse. "What?" She glanced at the others at the table. "I heard it was a woman." The Rivaini shrugged as if the statement didn't matter.

Mikhail, another sailor, concurred. "Me too," he stated.

"Why would a woman fight for another woman?" asked Harlen. The idea seemed foreign to him.

"You don't believe a woman can fall in love with another woman?" Isabela asked in a teasing voice. Her smile hid a twinge of guilt. She missed Hawke. All this talk reminded her of the happier times they spent together.

The boy shrugged, "But why would it happen? I've never heard of such a thing. How do women even…" He blushed. His train of thought traveled in a very erotic direction.

The pirate smiled at his embarrassment. "Oh, there are so _many_ ways," she said with a sultry voice. The boy turned red as a tomato and quickly excused himself. He left with his hands masterfully covering his crotch. Isabela and the rest of the men laughed hard as Harlen slunk away in embarrassment. It was far too much fun to tease him.

Jeana crossed her arms in a little frustration, though she too was quite entertained. "I still prefer to think that the Champion is a man. Maybe someday he'll race in here and sweep me off my feet." She clasped her hands together and looked away to nowhere in particular.

"Wishing don't make it so," said one of the older men there. "You should settle with one of us."

"Bah," said the whore. "I can still have my dreams can't I?"

"As long as you're not dreaming while I'm in you, I don't care." He quipped.

She scowled in return. "How else am I supposed to suffer through your lackluster performance?" The others winced. That was a low blow.

The man got up in anger and grabbed her. "What did you say, whore?"

Isabela shot up. As fun as a fight would be, she had no interest in drawing unnecessary attention to herself for just a whore. "Lay off, Whelon. This isn't worth getting thrown into jail for." She tilted her head in the direction of a few guards, who looked irritated from having their own fun interrupted. Isabela turned her attention back to the girl. "I've got twenty silver. Let's see how good that tongue is when we put it to other uses." She led Jeana away from her group, and into an available room.

* * *

They were sailing in to the docks of Kirkwall. Isabela was sitting on deck staring at the small ship in a bottle Hawke had given her so many years ago. It was a reminded her of more exciting times and of the reason she left the city. The pirate hated reminiscing. It was pathetic, but the memory of Hawke always brought a smile to her face. That idiot was truly a sweetheart hidden under layers of apathy and irritability.

It wasn't as if Isabela had never gone back to Kirkwall since leaving. The city had always been along their routine shipping routes. She merely chose not to reveal her face to anyone when she was there.

"You always stare at that. Is it special?" asked Harlen. He sat down next to her and stared intently at the small object in Isabela's hands.

The pirate smiled. "It was a gift from a friend." _Friends_ was all they ever were, and was more than Isabela initially wanted. "There is apparently a perfect replica of me below deck with a dozen sailors in attendance."

The boy laughed. "Must be expensive," he commented.

"I wouldn't know; she found it." Hawke always did have a knack for finding nice things littered throughout Kirkwall. Some of her best weapons were lifted out of locked chests in Darktown.

"She must be important to you," the boy observed. The pirate always smiled when she looked at the trinket.

"No more than anyone else," Isabela lied. She quickly put away the bottle. The conversation ventured to a topic she didn't want to discuss, or remember.

Oblivious to the change in mood, Harlen continued to talk. "Why do you always stay aboard the ship when we dock in Kirkwall?"

"Debt collectors," said Isabela as she shrugged nonchalantly. It was close to the truth, though the debt that Castillon wanted was paid with her life. "I'm hiding from them." Sometimes she would sneak off to visit Hawke's estate. She never went in though, just standing outside was tempting fate enough.

"I see," he replied. "Is the woman who gave you that ship there too?" It was an innocent question born out of curiosity.

Isabela pretended not to notice his curious eyes scanning her face for any response. "No," she lied again. "What makes you say that?"

He shrugged. "You stare at the ship in the bottle more often when we go to Kirkwall." Was it right that he felt a bit jealous when he saw her stare at the stupid object? There was just something in her eyes that looked like it meant far more to her than anything else. He wished she could look at him that way just once.

The pirate smirked as she quickly thought of a way to divert the conversation. "I'm just imagining how fun it would be to have your ship in my bottle." It was a pleasant thought.

"I…" he stuttered, "umm." Harlen excused himself.

Isabela thanked Andraste's perky tits for his departure. His inane questioning was starting to bother her. If only they were about sex. She'd much prefer answering those questions. One of these days, she'd have to ride him. All that pent up energy of a well-built young man in his prime would make it so much fun. Now, if only he'd lose that stupid notion of romance.

The pirate looked up at the sky; a storm was coming. The time to lament about lost love was over.

* * *

Isabela cursed the Maker's balls, the Archdemon's flaming tits and Andraste's checkered knickers. How was it that less than a day's travel from Kirkwall, a storm hit the ship causing it to crash along the jagged rocks of the coast? Almost everyone survived by swimming to shore.

After a half day of walking, everyone found themselves drinking away their sorrows at the Hanged Man. The captain lamented about losing his ship; the men lamented about losing their jobs, and Isabela lamented on the fact that she was now stuck in the one place she spent three years running from. The pirate sat at the bar, trying to think of a way to leave the city as soon as possible, and hopefully without notice. Luck was not on her side that day.

Stepping into the Hanged Man was like walking into her home. She'd forgotten how much she'd grown to like the city over the years. It was familiar. Isabela thought about all the companions that once congregated in this spot. She missed watching Hawke laugh at the extremely embellished stories that Varric would recite by the fireplace, or cheating at Diamondback against Merrill, and watching her dissect the most complicated situations into something unbelievably simple. The pirate recalled the stern, angry look that Aveline wore every time she finished with a duel or began a brawl. In fact, it looked just like the expression the guardswoman in front of her wore now.

"Balls," Isabela mentally cursed. She didn't expect to be found so soon. The pirate was sure that Varric didn't see her in here.

"We need to talk," declared the redheaded warrior.

The sailors around Isabela all stood up, ready to defend their only female shipmate from the abuses of the guard. As far as they knew, Isabela had done nothing to deserve the attention of the guards. "This guard giving you trouble Aveline?" asked one of the younger lads.

"Aveline?" The guardswoman glared at Isabela. "That's the name you're using?" As if Aveline didn't have a bad enough reputation, the damned smuggler had to destroy it further.

The pirate laughed. "Think of it as a tribute."

Aveline was not amused. "Tell them to back off or I'll have them all arrested, including you." She stared down each of the men who stood up, causing a couple to swallow in fear. This was Kirkwall, her home, not theirs.

Isabela gestured for her fellows to back down. "It's fine boys." They were sweet, but the guard captain was not one to make empty threats.

They walked into Varric's suite, where the dwarf was sitting at his table, with an unsurprised look on his face. "Isabela," he happily greeted. "Three years and you've finally come back."

"What can I say," she replied. "I missed you as a prime example of manliness." The pirate glanced down at his chest hair. She really wanted to run her hands through it.

"I know I'm irresistible Rivaini." He patted his chest proudly, and poured her a drink.

Annoyed, Aveline stopped their banter. "If we may get back on track," she said sternly. "Where have you been?"

Isabela shrugged. "Here and there," she said, "everywhere."

The woman groaned in annoyance. "You know why I'm here don't you?" Aveline looked over at the dwarf in search of some sort of support, and got nothing. Varric looked entertained with the interaction between the two.

"Nope," said the Rivaini, "I'm not even sure how you found me so fast."

"Aveline and I have been keeping an eye out for anyone matching your description," replied Varric. He purposely didn't mention knowing that she was aboard a ship that stopped in Kirkwall every few months. Before, he refrained from contact out of respect for both Isabela and Hawke, but things were changing in Kirkwall, and they were taking its toll on the Champion.

"I see," said Isabela. "Why are we here talking then?"

"Hawke," answered the guardswoman. "She misses you." It was a blatant understatement. Hawke was depressed, but managed to hide her feelings for nearly three years. She grew more irritable with time, and began disappearing for days in the wilds of Sundermount. Anders, Merrill or Fenris would try to accompany her, but the warrior was growing reckless.

"Can't be," replied Isabela. The thought that Hawke still loved her was touching, but only a fantasy. She was the Champion of Kirkwall now; Isabela had no place in that life, even if she wanted to be. The pirate left her for a reason. "She's moved on."

"She hasn't," claimed Aveline. She sighed; Isabela wouldn't accept the truth.

Varric turned his gaze to his drink. "Did you know that she's turned down all proposals of marriage, because she's waiting for you?"

Another twinge of guilt ran through the pirate. "Bullshit!" Hawke wasn't that type of idiot. If she hasn't married, it was not because of her feelings.

"Probably," replied the dwarf. "At least talk to her. You owe her that much." Aveline nodded in agreement.

They were right, and Isabela knew it. She conceded to one meeting, that was all. Then she could leave her guilt-ridden heart behind in this city of slaves, and Hawke would move on, just as she was supposed to three years ago.

* * *

_A/N: Does anyone else want to hear Isabela actually say, "Andraste's perky tits"? I know I couldn't stop laughing for a good five minutes after I wrote it. Perhaps it makes me a pervert. _

_Next chapter has Hawke's three years. _

_Review?_


	5. Three Years in the City of Chains

_A/N: __Please read the dragon age wikia entry on "sexuality and marriage" if you wish to have a glimpse into my train of thought when writing Hawke's view on marriage._

* * *

Chapter 5: Three Years in the City of Chains

Hawke drank herself into a stupor at the Hanged Man for those first few nights. Part of her wished to see Isabela walk through those doors, while the rest of her just wanted to drown her sorrows. Merrill kept her company, and made sure the warrior didn't get into too much trouble. Finally, Aveline came by soon enough and forced the warrior away from her sulking.

"Enough is enough," she said, "Why you pine for that whore I'll never understand, but you need to snap out of it."

Hawke looked at the empty mug she'd been nursing. She wasn't drunk; that phase really stopped after she gave Bodahn a black eye while intoxicated nearly a week ago. Still, she agreed with Aveline's assessment. "I'm not sure either," she answered honestly. "I'm just not sure what to do now." She was the Champion of Kirkwall. The title came with many responsibilities that had begun to invade her life. She wasn't at the Hanged Man just to sulk; Hawke was, for the lack of a better word, hiding.

"Champion of Kirkwall" certainly had a nice ring to it. The hero most definitely appreciated that aspect of the name, but she was now annoyed that the Knight Commander decided to suddenly dub the title on to her after the duel with the Arishok. Her home had become flooded with letters, invitations and random gifts from the other nobles in Hightown. It was frustrating to say the least.

At first, the warrior tried to be polite. She tried to attend the parties, and social events that demanded her attention across the city. It let her be distracted from the heartbreak that came after Isabela left. It also stopped her from drinking herself into a stupor every night just to sleep. The realm of dreams came soon enough after a few rounds at the endless dinner parties that everyone seemed to enjoy attending. It drove Hawke mad. They were always talking about the same meaningless things at every single event. All of them liked to question her about her duel, her past or her family. She had no interest in speaking about any of those things, yet she was honor bound to respect her hosts.

Most times, the nobles came to her with agendas. It was hardly anything new. The game of politics was a complex one, a thing she had no particular interest in participating. Many approached her in search of support of one cause or another. Some wanted her to step up to the position of Viscount; others wanted to be Viscount themselves. Most annoying of all, however, were the ones who came to her in search of allying themselves through blood. In other words, they wanted to bind the Champion of Kirkwall to their families through marriage.

She got propositions from many well-respected families for possible arrangements. The candidates ranged from young men to the occasional woman, from their teens to their early thirties. It was a headache.

The Comte de Benoit was really pushing his daughter, a sweet girl of eighteen. Hawke was not interested in the girl. The child could certainly do better than a bitter adventurer like her.

Benoit walked up to the warrior in the middle of his dinner party. Many of Hightown were there. He was well respected, and possibly liked, or simply just rich. Hawke was bored, but gracious toward her host. He brought along a charming young woman. She was blonde, pretty green eyes and a delicate nose. The girl curtsied shyly. "A pleasure to meet you Serah Hawke," she said.

The warrior smiled and nodded her head in return in a gesture of thanks. "And you…" She paused to hear the girl's name.

"Madeleine," said the noble, "my daughter." He glanced over at Hawke, and then whispered into his child's ear. She listened to his instructions and returned to her playmates at the party. They watched her as she left. "She is beautiful is she not?"

Hawke nodded. "She is," she confirmed, "seems like a nice girl too."

"Anyone would be lucky to have her," he stated proudly.

"Indeed," agreed Hawke.

"Would you be interested Champion?" He asked as he looked at the warrior to gauge her reaction.

Hawke looked at him in surprise. Nervously laughing she replied, "I don't think I'm an appropriate match for your daughter."

"Nonsense, you are a charming, beautiful woman yourself." He waved his hand as if to scatter away all the negative thoughts.

The warrior looked at him curiously. "Don't you think a nice young man would suit her better?"

The Comte responded confidently. "She is my youngest. I have no need of more grandchildren. I merely want her to be cared for."

Confused, Hawke asked, "Why me?"

"You're the Champion of Kirkwall. You would be good to her," he stated. Then he nervously fidgeted with his sleeve, as if about to bring up something inappropriate. "There are also rumors. They indicate you prefer the _company_ of women."

"What rumors?" Hawke was uncomfortable. Fame brought about an unhealthy interest in her personal life. She really hated it.

"Well," he said, "There are a few about you and that Guard Captain enjoying your time together." He purposely made no mention of the stories of her at the local brothel, or the other rumors that featured Hawke's less savory companions. Of all people, Captain Aveline seemed to be the least offensive to mention.

Hawke burst out laughing. The very idea was preposterous. She would sooner bed Varric than Aveline; it was far too much like sleeping with Bethany.

The Comte appeared confused, and then fearful. "I am sorry," he said. "I should not have jumped to conclusions." He was afraid that he offended the warrior. Her position made her no light enemy, and he did not know if she was hiding her anger behind a mask of hilarity.

She tried to explain in the middle of her mirth. "No offense taken." Hawke closed her eyes and took in a few deep breaths to stop laughing. "I am merely amused."

"I do not understand," he responded.

She paused to collect her thoughts. "Of all people, Aveline is the one you hear about. It's just… funny."

"It's not true then." His face darkened a little. Benoit had hoped that perhaps the Champion would take an interest in a younger woman and his daughter was the perfect candidate.

With a smile on her face, Hawke said, "The guard captain and I are close friends, no more." She took another look at Madeleine. "As for your daughter, I'm sure you'll find a better match than me. I am afraid that I cannot give her the proper care she deserves." She thought of Isabela. There was no way she could marry someone while the pirate still held her heart.

Benoit was not completely disappointed. The Champion's response was not all negative. "Please consider it, Champion. I'm sure you've received many propositions from every family in Kirkwall with an eligible child; you must decide. You cannot stay alone forever."

Hawke paused to observe the girl a bit more. Truthfully, she did consider it, all the time in fact. There was no reason to wait around forever, nor did she have that much time to wait at all. Hawke was past the proper marriageable age for a young lady. The title of Champion allowed her a few exemptions, but it would not do so forever. She also knew this would be what Leandra would wish for her. A stable marriage would also calm things down, and perhaps she would finally get someone else to show up to these damn parties.

* * *

The first year passed. Hawke spent most of it trying to fulfill her role as Champion. She tried to live up to the expectations of the people around her. For a while, it helped distract her from her personal problems.

Part of her spent the time wishing that Isabela would return. Realistically, Hawke knew that she wouldn't, and tried to force herself to accept the truth. The void Isabela left hurt, and as she tried her best to suppress her emotions, they continued to chip at her heart.

"Why don't you get married then? It'd make it easier on you," said Fenris. The companions were gathered together at a small dinner party that Aveline decided to host. Hawke welcomed the change. It was much more enjoyable than the posh gatherings she often attended.

"You know I can't." It just didn't feel fair. Isabela would be first in her heart, and Hawke didn't know for how long. The feelings may ebb away with time, but haven't yet.

"What's stopping you?" He lazily leaned back into his seat while drinking from a cup of wine.

Merrill piped in with her two bits. "She can't get married. She's in love with Isabela." Leave it to the blood mage to state the obvious.

"Hawke the romantic," exclaimed Varric. "It's perfect story material."

Hawke frowned. Knowing that the pirate could bring about such impractical fancies out of her was disconcerting. The warrior was never a romantic before. Years of pragmatism, taught from childhood and carried well into her time in Kirkwall flew out the window the moment she thought of Isabela.

Aveline smacked her hand to her forehead. "Of all people," she said. "I can't believe it." She was angry with Isabela for running away right after the duel when Hawke was at her weakest, but it was possible that the whore did what was best. An affair with the infamous pirate was a scandal at best and a political weapon at worst.

Anders smirked at the dwarf. "That's true. Hawke duels the Arishok to save her pirate queen." He swung his arm as if slashing a sword in a mock battle against an invisible foe.

Merrill happily clapped and laughed at his gesture. Even Hawke found herself smiling. Her friends were trying to lighten the mood. Making a joke of it helped a little.

Varric continued the narration. "The Champion's bravery moved the Pirate Queen's heart. The Arishok was defeated, but the Pirate Queen could not stay. She felt unworthy of the Champion's feelings, so left to prove herself. One day she would return to her true love, and they'll live happily ever after."

"Really, Varric?" said Aveline.

"What can I say? It's a work in progress." The dwarf took another sip of ale and carefully gauged Hawke's expression. A heartbreaking smile graced her face as she stared into empty space. "She'll come back," Varric said confidently while giving Hawke an encouraging nudge.

"Maybe," she replied. Hawke cleared her mind of all thoughts of Isabela. Looking up at her friends, she said, "Are we done talking about my failed love life, or do I have to kiss one of you to change topic?" The warrior smiled.

Anders smirked, "I wouldn't say no to a kiss." He puckered up his lips in a playful gesture.

Hawke groaned, and lightly shoved his face back. "I take it back. You look too much like my dog."

The mage laughed as he leaned back. "It was worth a try." He liked these parties among friends. It was a welcome reprieve to the unending urge to destroy the Circle of Magi and his wish of freeing all mages from their bondage. He understood Hawke's heartache. Her false smiles and empty laughter didn't fool any of the companions.

* * *

The people were growing impatient. Nearly two years had passed and there was still no new Viscount. Hawke was doing her best to quell the growing discontent, but she was beginning to reach her limit. Meredith had rejected all the best candidates who put forth their names, which put the warrior in an awkward position. Hawke had hoped to avoid getting involved in the fight over the position of Viscount, but the nobles in Hightown were now begging her to talk to the Templars.

She did as they asked. "Thank you for meeting with me Knight Commander." Hawke walked into the small office inside the Gallows.

Meredith gestured for Hawke to sit. "It is an honor to have the Champion come visit," she said. "So tell me, why have you come?"

The warrior appreciated the bluntness. "The nobles are growing restless. They want a new Viscount. I've done my best to defend you, but I can't do so forever."

Meredith sneered; she hated politics. Things would be simpler if those petty nobles weren't always fighting around every scrap of power they could get their hands on. If it were not for her, those vultures would be nothing more than thralls of a blood mage. "I will name a new Viscount when a worthy candidate steps forward, not before."

"And who is worthy?" questioned Hawke. "You would reject the Maker himself if he applied." Her voiced was raised in frustration. She had been defending Meredith's hold on the Viscount's throne with the hope that it was merely temporary.

"Then do you have anyone you think appropriate?" Meredith frowned. She didn't want the position for herself; she hated politics. All she wanted was to protect Kirkwall from the danger of the mages. Until now, no appropriate candidate had come forward. When he did, she would not hesitate to hand over the position along with all its burdens.

"Sebastian Vael," said Hawke without hesitation. After meeting that desire demon in the Harimann estate, Sebastian had lost his will to retake Starkhaven. The fact that he could question his own desires and weigh them against the needs of the people made him the perfect leader. More importantly, he had royal blood from a family that allied itself to Kirkwall.

Meredith scoffed at the idea. "A man who cannot make up his mind for Starkhaven let alone Kirkwall," she said. "Does he even want to rule?"

"What good king wishes for power?" countered Hawke. "He'll do the job if given it."

"No," stated the Knight Commander.

"Consider it," said Hawke. "You're stretching yourself by doing both the Viscount's job and your own. It is wearing on you." She noticed that the bags under Meredith's eyes, and the new wrinkles on her brow.

"Why don't you ever put yourself forward?" asked Meredith.

"Would you accept me if I did?" replied Hawke.

"No, I am merely curious." The thought of placing Hawke in the position had crossed her mind on occasion, but her association with apostates and other less than tasteful companions caused her to reject it.

Hawke paused in thought, though she already knew the answer. "I prefer enemies I can see."

The Knight Commander nodded her head in agreement. "I see." She sighed. "Very well, I shall think about what you've said. Thank you for coming by, Champion."

Hawke got up from her seat and bowed her head in thanks. "It has been a pleasure, Knight Commander."

It was the first of many conversations they had through the year.

* * *

Hawke was tossing in her bed. A week of inactivity except for a number of dinner parties and poorly disguised matchmaking sessions made her restless. She had invited Orana to play her lute for a bit nearly an hour ago in hopes that the calming music might put her to sleep, but it did not work. After fifteen minutes of flipping from side to side on her oversized mattress, she finally got up to wander the estate.

She stared at the family shield hanging outside her bedroom. Everyone in the city recognized the crest of the Amells. It felt a little strange to see it sometimes. Hawke grew up as a poor villager in Fereldan. She never expected to become a noble in Kirkwall.

Then she passed Leandra's room. All these years, she could not bring herself to change a single thing about it. Perhaps if it were required, she would move Mother's things out, but not before. She didn't want to let go of the last place that belonged to her mother. Hawke held onto the locket around her neck. The small piece of jewelry was a gift from her father to her mother. It was another keepsake she could not let go.

Blinking away tears, Hawke moved down the stairs, where her hand soon ran over a badly done carving. The warrior shook her head as she recalled the night Isabela etched the vulgar picture into the stairwell. The memory made her chuckle. Hawke couldn't get rid of it without replacing the entire rail. Only the pirate would make a mark on something that could never be replaced. A familiar ache throbbed in her chest.

She walked into the next room to brush away the memories. A note was on the table that she didn't see before. "Watered your plants, Merrill," it said. That was a nice of the elf. Hopefully, she didn't have too much trouble finding her way back to the Alienage.

Hawke traveled up the stairs into the library. With a brief glance, she noticed a number of leaflets haphazardly stuck into multiple books. Every page was a copy of Anders' manifesto. She slowly removed the pages from each book. Did the mage expect her guests to read the paper while they rifled through her library?

Hawke worked her way up the shelves, until she reached the top. She could never bring herself to read the books up there. They belonged to the pirate. The one time she looked at them to reminisce ended with a trip to the Blooming Rose.

As angry as she was, Hawke didn't truly blame Isabela for leaving. The pirate made herself clear; she would run if feelings ever got involved. Hawke blamed herself. She should not have confessed. If she didn't, maybe Isabela would have stayed. Then again, Hawke couldn't pretend for much longer. Just sex wasn't enough anymore. She had to confess and face whatever consequences that came with it.

Hawke accepted the truth; Isabela was not coming back.

* * *

By the third year, Hawke began to withdraw from the public. She grew weary of the constant beckons to step up as a political force. The nobles hounded her to solve the city's problems. The templars had enacted martial law, and the guards did their best to enforce the law, while Aveline persistently denied templar attempts to consolidate power.

Meredith's paranoia grew out of control, and she continued to refuse all candidates for the Viscount's throne. The pressures of the Knight Commander's duties combined with the Viscount's duties were taking their toll. The stress of handling the dangerous mages along with the jackals of Hightown prevented her from sleeping properly. The silent whispering in the back of her mind chipped at the edges of her sanity. The conversations she shared with the Champion were growing less cordial with each visit. What was previously a mutual respect disintegrated into distrust. Hawke eventually stopped trying.

Being the Champion was taxing. She seized every opportunity to escape. Anders was always in need of more herbs. The workers at the Bone Pit always welcomed a visit from their fellow Ferelden. They were good enough excuses for escaping the tiresome demands of the city.

That same year, she had accepted the loss of Isabela. Hawke thought about the pirate more than she would like, but resigned herself in the knowledge that she was nothing more than a passing fancy for the woman. She began actively searching for a suitable husband. It was what Mother would have wanted, and the idea of finally settling down didn't seem too bad. Perhaps she'd even have a child or two. Maybe with time, she'd grow to love whomever she married.

It wasn't hard to find candidates. A calculated slip of the tongue in front of gossiping old women at a noble's dinner party did the trick. Dozens of letters extolling the virtues of single noblemen and noblewomen flooded her house. Hawke sorted through them, searching for the person with the most compatible traits.

She thought of Aveline's wedding. It was nice and small affair. A few friends and family were invited to attend the ceremony. The two lovebirds went all the way to Orlais for a honeymoon. The trip was a gift from Hawke herself. She wanted the best for the two. Donnic suited his guard captain well. The warrior wished for someone like that for herself.

Hawke ran her hand through her hair. Looking through the letters was frustrating. Initially, she managed to screen out all the candidates. There was always something wrong. Hawke knew what it was too. None of them was Isabela, but the warrior couldn't hold everyone to those standards. At that rate, she'd end up marrying one of the girls at the Blooming Rose. Maker knew that would be a huge scandal for the Hightown gossipers. In fact, the warrior was half-tempted to propose to the cross-dressing elf just to see what kind of rumors would pop up.

Hawke got up from her writing table. Staring at those letters anymore would do no good. She had narrowed her choices down to a slightly older widower, a magistrate's son, and a couple of other individuals. Now it was merely a matter of meeting them and finding out whether or not she liked them enough.

Bodhan greeted her as she walked through the living room into the foyer. "Going somewhere, Serah?" He glanced at the well-maintained armor and eyed the backpack she carried. It appeared that Hawke intended to leave for a few days.

"Yes," she replied, "I'm going to the Bone Pit, and maybe I'll pick up some stuff for Merrill and Anders while I'm out."

"Very well, Serah," he said. Silently he prayed that no ill would befall the warrior. She had been good to him and his boy. Sandal liked Hawke too.

Hawke nodded, and whistled for her dog to join. The mabari eagerly trotted up to his master to have his head rubbed. He was excited. Hawke looked like she was going out, and she invited him. These adventures were just as exciting as the training sessions with Aveline's guardsmen.

A ringing bell caught Hawke's attention. Someone was at the front door. The warrior opened it to see who decided to stop by, and hoped it was not another noble in search of aid or money.

"Hawke," said Aveline. Her eyes widened in surprise to see that the Champion herself answered the door. Usually it was Bodahn or Orana who let her in. Then her eyes narrowed as she noticed Hawke was in her armor. She didn't approve of her friend traveling to places that would require such protection, especially if she was alone.

"Aveline," greeted Hawke. "What brings you to my home?" It was the middle of the day; Aveline was technically still on duty.

The redhead carefully skirted the topic. "May I come in?"

Wary, Hawke moved to let her friend enter. "Is something wrong?"

"Hawke, what I'm going to say may make you angry." The guard captain sat down on a bench, and motioned her friend to do the same.

"Aveline, what's wrong." Hawke was beginning to panic. Aveline was a direct person; she only acted like this when informing someone of a death. "Did something happen?" A thousand possibilities flashed through her mind. Did Merrill finally become an abomination? Did Anders get captured by the templars? Maybe Fenris' former master snuck into the city to reclaim his lyrium, or maybe Varric was stabbed in the back by another family member.

"She's back," said the woman.

Hawke blinked in confusion. "Who's back?"

"Isabela," answered Aveline. "She's in the Hanged Man. Hawke…" She wanted to say more, but the warrior was already gone, and the door was swinging in her wake.

Hawke ran all the way there. It's been three years. There were no visits, nor letters. For all she knew, Isabela was dead. To hear Aveline say that she was in the Hanged Man again, it was like a slap in the face.

She was panting by the time she got there. The Champion stood outside the door and stared at it. She was afraid that maybe it was a lie, or a case of mistaken identity. Maybe this was just a giant prank. If so, the Maker surely had a sadistic sense of humor. Hawke mustered all her courage. She had to know. Even if it was a lie, she had to be sure that it truly wasn't Isabela in that tavern. If she walked away now without knowing the truth, she'd regret it forever.

Her hand moved on its own. It slowly pushed open the door as her feet carried her body over the threshold. The sight took her breath away. Aveline spoke the truth. Hawke would recognize that blue bandana and ebony colored hair anywhere. There was Isabela, sitting at the bar and drinking as if nothing had happened. It didn't matter if she couldn't see the pirate's face; she knew who it was.

Hawke's mouth went dry as she tried to open it. Three years of wishing, dreaming and mourning and there she was. She didn't know what to say. "Isa…" The name felt almost foreign on her tongue. "Isabela," she called out.

"Hawke," replied the woman in a distinctly familiar accent.

* * *

_E/N: Riveting, isn't it? Next chapter features how they deal with each other after three years of separation. I can tell you that they don't kiss and make up right away. _

_Please review._


	6. Talk

_This chapter has now been combined with what used to be chapter 7. _

_A shout out to leogrl19, who let me use her to bounce off ideas. _

* * *

Chapter 6: Talk

Isabela didn't turn around at first. She knew exactly when Hawke entered. It was hard to miss the shouts of "Champion" coming from the mouths of the other patrons. This was difficult. She'd been running for so long.

The pirate waited for the Champion to speak up. It was nerve wrecking. What was Hawke thinking? Did the warrior hate her for lying about the relic, for running off with it, or for coming back with it? Isabela needed another swig of the liquid courage in front of her.

"Isabela," Hawke finally said.

"Hawke," she replied. The pirate couldn't quite bring herself to turn around and face those eyes. Hawke was the Champion now and surely hated her for those stupid stunts she pulled three years ago. Isabela sighed; it was now or never. "Do you remember what you said to me after the duel?"

The warrior froze. Was this a trick question? Of course, she remembered. She confessed after the duel three years ago, and Isabela ran away as a result. Her mind raced for a response. What should she say? "You did the right thing?" There were so many things she wanted to ask. Where had she been? Why couldn't she stay? Would she stay now?

"It may have been the right thing, but it was also the dumb thing." She thought about the relic. Of all the stupid things to do, she came back. The pirate turned around to see those piercing eyes bore into her own. Hawke looked haggard. What did these three years do to her?

They talked there together for a bit, but both were careful to avoid the true subject they wished to discuss. Isabela was grateful; it did make things easier. If Hawke didn't want to talk about her feelings, then the Rivaini didn't think it was necessary to bring them up. "The fact is… you and I have nothing in common anymore. You're a Champion, and I'm just a lying, thieving snake." It was about as close as to speaking about what was truly on their minds as they got.

She rejoined her fellow sailors soon after their sad excuse of a talk. They all stared at her in wonder. "You never told us you knew the Champion."

Isabela shrugged. "It wasn't important."

"Not important? She's more famous than the Hero of Fereldan. How do you know her?" They really wanted to know. To think, all this time they were acquainted with a woman who knew the legendary Champion of Kirkwall. It was mind altering.

"Oh, we've gone a few rounds between the sheets," she answered. "She is relentless." Isabela smirked as all the men's jaws dropped open. "I mean, all night every night," she said. A couple of men managed to close their mouths to gulp empty air in anticipation and lust.

"Really?" one tried to confirm.

"No," she lied. "She hires extra swords from time to time. The coin is good," noted the Rivaini.

"That's mean, Aveline," whined Harlen. "You really had me going for a second there."

The pirate smiled. "Now what's the fun in always telling the truth? Admit it; you preferred the story where the Champion and I were _intimate_ acquaintances." She moved extremely close to his face, such that he could only look into her eyes and ran a finger across his chest. "Did you want to know how you faired in bed compared to her?" The pirate laughed and withdrew when Harlen face turned into a tomato.

* * *

Hawke didn't stop by for a couple of days after that. Varric even had to go out of his way to visit her at the estate rather than the other way around. The warrior was moping in her estate and trying to work up the nerve to actually speak to Isabela about her reasons for running. She should have done it when she stood face to face with the pirate for the first time in years, but she wasn't ready then. Hawke's run to the Hanged Man after Aveline told her was an act of impulse, and the moment she saw the Isabela's face again, she could barely speak, let alone talk about her feelings.

It wasn't until she was forced to return to the tavern did she see the pirate once more. Fenris asked for aid in meeting his sister at the Hanged Man. He wanted some support, and was unsure of what to expect. Years of paranoia, and a healthy dose of fear did little to help his cause. They entered the establishment. He squared his back, and scanned the room. Hawke's eyes focused solely on the Rivaini woman sitting in her favorite stool by the bar.

Isabela saw her. They made eye contact. Hawke looked away, feeling a surge of heartache and longing. This was not the time or place to wish for things that never were. "Let's get this over with," she grumbled at her elvish partner.

He stiffened. "Yes," he acknowledged. They both strode over to the only female elf in the room sitting at a table.

The table next to them burst into flame, and various shades popped up from the floor. Everyone scattered in the room. All the non-combatants did their best to escape the carnage, while Hawke, Fenris and Isabela did their best to fight for survival. Varric heard the noise from his suite and managed to join the fray. Soon enough, the shades were gone, and Magister Danarius of the Tevinter Empire was lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood.

Hawke scanned each of her companions to ensure that all were unharmed. Her eyes lingered on Isabela a little longer than necessary. Only a plea from Fenris' sister brought her attention back to the situation at hand. She stayed his hand, though wasn't sure it was the right thing. Bethany would never betray her like that, but she didn't know a thing about Varania. Whether or not the girl deserved to die wasn't up to her, but Varric's words did get to her. No one should have the blood of family on their hands.

The girl ran off; Fenris returned to his mansion to brood, and Varric returned to his room to drink privately. Corff had yet to come back. This left Hawke and Isabela awkwardly facing each other.

"So," replied the warrior. "Still haven't lost your edge." She glanced at Isabela's daggers. A part of her was relieved that the Rivaini suffered no wounds, while the other part struggled to think of what to say. Was this their opportunity to talk?

"You're not so rusty yourself." The pirate smirked. "I'll bet those hands haven't lost their _touch_ either." The double entendre was just far too tempting to pass up, but Isabela quickly corrected herself with a nervous cough. There was something in those eyes that somehow made her wish that she restrained herself. She opted to change the topic. Just as Hawke opened her mouth to say something, Isabela interrupted. "Since you're here anyway, care to share any jobs with me? I could use the coin."

The warrior sighed. They would have to talk another time. She nodded in consent. Isabela was useful before, there was no reason she would be any less effective now. At the same time, Hawke secretly wanted to be near the pirate once again, if only to find out what the woman had been up to all this time.

* * *

"You're a masochist." Anders was bandaging up one of Hawke's many wounds that she received during one of her night excursions around Hightown.

"I didn't get these on purpose," she retorted. It wasn't as if she purposely strode into the square looking for a fight. The warrior happened to be walking her dog when two blood mage thralls came charging at her. The dog downed one, leaving the other for the Champion herself. Though unarmed, and unprotected, Hawke managed to disarm her opponent. He did not go down easy. After losing his blade, the man began kicking and biting her until she conked him over the head with a rock. No permanent damage was done, but she was extremely annoyed.

He frowned at her. "I'm talking about Isabela." Anders was surprised when he saw the pirate rejoin their merry band of misfits on one of their escapades along Wounded Coast. Justice disapproved of how the pirate showed no remorse for running away. His human part liked seeing the flirtatious, lighthearted Rivaini banter with the companions again. She brought an unusually positive aspect to their group dynamic. Things were growing dull with only Varric and Merrill running their mouths.

The warrior closed her eyes in exasperation. "Not you too," she said, "Aveline and Fenris are already breathing down my neck about it."

He shrugged. "It needs to be said."

"She's useful," Hawke said. Indeed, the pirate was quite good at eviscerating when required, and it helped that she could disarm traps and pick locks.

"So is Varric," replied Anders. Justice demanded that they talk, for the sake of fairness. The spirit within felt that the pirate's betrayal was egregious, but her subsequent return returned her to its good graces.

"She has more free time." It was the truth. Varric was often stuck in the city. Isabela was shipwrecked and in need of coin. Who better to cover for the dwarf?

Anders frowned. Justice didn't like how the Champion was avoiding the issue, so he went out and said it. "You love her."

The words caused Hawke to tighten her jaw. "I can handle it."

Anders finished tying up the last bandage. "If you say so, Hawke," he said. "Just remember, I'm here to talk if you ever need to."

The Champion slammed her bedroom door in fury. Talk – that's all everyone wanted to do. What good was talk? She didn't want to talk about it at all. Hawke didn't want to think about her feelings or her regrets. She didn't want to think about Isabela as anything more than a casual acquaintance that was handy with a blade. Hawke was perfectly fine as things were, even if it was killing her inside.

* * *

"Borrowed one of your dresses," was a message she found while rummaging through her closet. The warrior wondered how Isabela would even fit in such a thing. The pirate's assets were significantly larger than her own, which begged the question on whether it was physically possible to even fit such a thing onto the woman. Hawke quickly brushed aside that train of thought when an impressive image of Isabela in a long evening gown appeared in her mind. The mental picture was disconcerting, and a little funny.

She quickly grabbed the first gown she saw and put it aside. Tonight there was a small ball at the Comte de Launcet's mansion. Hawke was pressured into attending when the Comtesse herself conveniently bumped into the Champion in Hightown's market. The warrior sighed in resignation. It had been a long time since she opted to participate in one of the many gatherings of the social elite.

The party was going well. Hawke wasn't particularly bored or entertained. She enjoyed some food, some dancing and a little bit of the entertainment. The Orlesians really knew how to entertain their guests, while overtly trying to underplay their grandeur. The effect was not lost on the invited. They played along by constantly complimenting the Comtesse while she belittled herself in false modesty. This was a game most nobles across Kirkwall played; the warrior had grown accustomed to it.

"Champion," called the man in front of her. They were talking about the rising prices of Antivan leather.

Hawke returned her gaze to the wealthy merchant before her. "Forgive me," she said, "What did you say?" A shiny flicker had caught her attention earlier. It was something that looked vaguely familiar, but disappeared before she could have a better look.

"As I said," the man droned on. Hawke nodded and smiled as she feigned interest. Another glint caught her attention once more, but this time she saw its source. Isabela stood in the middle of the room, wearing one of Hawke's favorite blue evening gowns.

Hawke's jaw nearly dropped to the floor. Isabela's breasts stretched the cloth of the dress showing everyone just how tightly they were restrained. There was an ample amount of cleavage that made every man look twice, yet the amount barely fell under the standards that propriety demanded. The number of golden ringlets around her neck was reduced to underplay her status just a bit. Overall, Isabela looked like an exotic courtesan.

The pirate knew she wouldn't be able to pass off as a member of the upper class. It didn't really matter. The people at the party would be curious of a new aristocrat in attendance, but they wouldn't look twice at an overpriced whore paid to attend for appearance sake. A dinner party was the perfect opportunity to enter someone's home without suspicion. The Comte de Launcet was also rumored to be quite wealthy. It stood to reason that they would have a very nice collection of treasures locked away somewhere in the mansion.

What she did not expect was to see Hawke chatting with a portly looking man at the party. The warrior already made her disinterest in the affairs of upper society quite clear. The fact that she was attending this little social gathering made things a little bit harder. Isabela had hoped to take a few valuable trinkets and escape with no one the wiser. After all, this was a large mansion filled with expensive things; no one would miss a few gems missing here and there. Yet there was Hawke, the self-righteous mercenary that didn't believe in stealing from people's houses, though it didn't quite stop her from doing it from time to time.

Hawke managed to close her gaping mouth as she watched Isabela saunter across the room. How the pirate even got in baffled the warrior, but she chose not to dwell on the topic. For now, her main concern was to stop whatever insane profit scheme the pirate probably had in mind. Quickly, she excused herself from the merchant baron's spiel about rising costs of shipping due to unreasonable searches of ships conducted by templars in search of apostates. Grabbing Isabela's arm, she led them to a corner where prying ears would less likely listen.

"What are you doing here?" questioned the Champion in a very hushed tone.

Isabela smiled deceivingly. "Isn't it obvious? I'm here for the party."

Hawke tightened her grip on the Rivaini's arm. "You wouldn't be caught dead at a party like this. What are you up to?"

The pirate winced a little at the increased pressure. "I'm here looking for a good time." She leaned in close to Hawke's ear and whispered with a sultry voice. "Perhaps you'd be willing to show me one?" The pirate smiled as she felt the Champion's body stiffen.

"Damn it, Isabela!" Hawke looked around to see a few spectators badly trying to feign disinterest. "Fine," she conceded. "But don't steal anything. I don't want to bail you out of jail." She let the pirate go and stalked off back to the conversation about how Meredith's overbearing policies were affecting trade. Hawke didn't really care if Isabela wanted to take a few things; her issue lay with how to get the woman out of trouble if she were caught. It would be a hassle to get Isabela out of jail if the people she wronged were among Kirkwall's wealthiest.

Hawke did her best to keep an eye on Isabela, while trying to keep track of the different topics of conversation popped up around her. However, less than an hour later, she found that the pirate had disappeared into the crowd. Fearing that the Rivaini woman has gone off to implement whatever haphazard plan she came up with, Hawke quickly excused herself to visit the restroom. Smiling apologetically, she ventured off to the inner rooms of the Launcet's mansion.

It didn't take long for her to come across an open door that looked like it shouldn't be ajar. The extremely thick and strong wood with a number of metallic bars crossing its width gave away the fact that this room held valuables. Hawke took a peek inside to see Isabela kneeled before a decent sized chest that was presumably full of valuable things.

"Isabela," Hawke cried out. She was angry that the pirate purposely chose not to listen to anything she said earlier in the evening. If either were caught, Hawke would be humiliated. More importantly, she wasn't sure if she could get the pirate out of jail for robbing the place of such an influential person.

"Just a minute," the pirate coolly called out. She knew it was Hawke. Only the Champion and the guard captain ever called out to her so harshly, and Aveline was clearly not invited to this gathering of stiff stick-in-the-muds, which was a shame, because these people were right up her alley.

Growing impatient, Hawke stepped into the room. "Stop what—"

A sudden click sounded when Isabela managed to unlock the chest, and set off multiple traps that were expertly distributed across the room. Unlike traditional devices, these ran on a continuous loop to ensure that the thief would be trapped or dead. Hawke managed to snap her foot back right in time to miss the large circular saws slicing across the floor of the room.

Panicking, she quickly searched for a way to shut down the traps. It wouldn't take long for a guard or servant to run through the corridor she was in, and Hawke didn't want Isabela caught, nor did she want the pirate wounded in attempting to escape.

"Balls," said Isabela as she looked around to evaluate her situation. The deadly system was created by a professional and probably placed there when the place was built. She looked over at a very angry looking Hawke. "I could use some help here."

"Idiot," she cursed at the Rivaini standing on the other side of continuously running metal blades. Hawke quickly looked around the entrance, hoping to find a disarming switch. Faintly, she heard the sound of metallic boots approaching from further down the hall. An armored person was behind the corner, so had yet to see them. Hawke's pulse sped up; there wasn't much time. She scanned everything by the door. Suddenly, with luck, Hawke saw a torch that appeared to have shifted. The Champion pulled on the wooden stick.

The footsteps were quickly approaching. Pulling the torch didn't shut down all the traps right away. Hawke stared at Isabela, while internally debating whether or not to leave the pirate here to face the consequences alone. Maker knew that Isabela had to pay for the things she's done eventually. Yet the warrior felt this obligation towards the Rivaini. To the blight with these pesky invisible threads that bound her heart to the pirate. She stood still, and waited for the end to come.

Suddenly, the blades all stopped slicing across the room. Isabela wasted no time to rush out and grab Hawke as they barely escaped the notice of a guard rounding the corner. The two hid in a small room on the side of the mansion; it appeared to be a study.

Hawke held her hand over her chest to calm her racing heart. The adrenaline of avoiding the guard really had her worked up. Abruptly, Isabela hands caught her thighs to lift her up onto a table. There the pirate assaulted Hawke's lips with her own. The Champion eagerly returned the kiss. The excitement and satisfaction from escaping detection rushed through their bodies. Isabela's hands were frantically pushed up the warrior's dress to rub against her center through her undergarments. Two months of dancing on eggshells, and desperately pretending everything was normal all built up to this.

"Ah!" cried a serving girl as she entered the room to see the two women in a very compromising position. "Excuse me," she squeaked as she quickly exited the room.

Just as quickly as it came, the moment passed. They both paused to see the girl retreat out of the room. Still aroused, the pirate renewed her assault.

The warrior turned her head to avoid Isabela's lips. "Stop," she weakly pleaded. The pirate did not comply. "Please stop," she repeated again. Finally, she shoved the Rivaini back. "Stop," she shouted.

Isabela blinked at her in confusion and felt a little hurt by the rejection. What possessed Hawke to push her away? Weren't they about to at it before the servant interrupted? Didn't she want this again? "What are you…"

"Why are you doing this to me?" Hawke interrupted. There was just something in her eyes that seemed off. Isabela couldn't quite place her finger on it yet.

"I'm not doing anything you don't want," replied the pirate.

In a bout of anger, Hawke hit the wall with as much force as she could muster. "No, Isabela," she said, "You're doing everything I've dreamed of for three years."

"So what's the problem," asked Isabela. Escaping from imminent arrest was electrifying. It was almost as exciting as besting an opponent in a duel. Some fun after that only seemed appropriate.

"The problem is that this is just one giant joke to you. You'll have sex, move on and leave me behind again. I want more, Isabela." Hawke thought about her three years in Kirkwall, without the Rivaini. She recalled all those nights in bed where she desperately bit back her tears only to feel the wet droplets slide down her cheek. All this, because she felt abandoned by the only woman she ever fell in love with.

"I can't give you more. You know that," shouted the pirate. Didn't Isabela make it clear? She even came out and said it once. No attachments; it was her rule.

"Then don't just tease me with this bit! You broke my heart, and I was just finally starting to move on. Hell, I was even searching for a husband. But this…" She gestured to the space between them. "This I can't take. Why couldn't you stay out of Kirkwall forever?" Hawke immediately regretted her burst of discontent once she saw those amber eyes harden.

"It's not like I came back by choice." Isabela stormed out of the door.

The Champion only watched as the pirate stalked off. She couldn't bring herself to chase after her, not while she was like this. So many emotions ran through her. Love, anger, regret, and sadness, all of it rushed through her body in a confusing flurry. What was she supposed to do?

* * *

Isabela fumed to herself the whole way back to Lowtown. Hawke's words stung. They weren't supposed to, but they did. Granted, she did act rashly. Kissing Hawke was probably not a good idea, though felt amazing at the time. For a moment, Isabela forgot about those damned feelings that made everything complicated. The rush was an unparalleled high. How could she not act?

Hawke wasn't exactly blameless either. She returned the kiss. It was mean of her to stop just when Isabela got started, but that wasn't why the pirate was angry. Hawke's rejection stung a little, but the Rivaini had been turned down so many times before, she was used to it.

"Why couldn't you stay out of Kirkwall forever?" The line repeated in her mind. Why it even bothered her was a mystery. Staying out of Kirkwall was part of her original plan, but hearing it from Hawke's lips somehow made it unbearable.

Damn it, Isabela was not supposed to care. She never concerned herself with anyone else before. Falling in love was kind of like finding a food she liked. Letting it sit too long made it spoil, so she always left before everything turned sour. Yet now, this thing with Hawke was different. Isabela shouldn't care what Hawke felt. She couldn't have lost her edge.

"Ave…" Harlen paused. He learned that Aveline was not her real name. "Isabela," he greeted positively when she walked into the tavern.

The pirate gazed at him, what better way to relieve her frustration? Damn the consequences, she'd wanted to try him for so long now. Putting on her sexiest smile and swaying her hips just a bit more, she approached him and said in an irresistible voice, "How about you and I go up to my room, and have wild, mind-blowing sex?"

He gulped with eyes filled with desire and narrowed brows in confusion. "I'm not sure if…" For a moment, the better part of him won, but Isabela knew how to change his mind. She traced her hand up his inner thigh and grabbed his crotch just hard enough to get a reaction.

Harlen gave in. What man could resist such a woman? He knew he shouldn't have. Isabela was clearly upset, but after two years of teasing, he couldn't take much more. Harlen was a good man, but not a saint.

Isabela rode him hard. The force and ecstasy brought her a few brief moments of reprieve, yet the moment they finished, the pirate felt dissatisfied. There wasn't the comfortable emptiness she'd been living with, but this aching void where she felt worthless and abandoned.

"Isabela," said the boy, "I…"

The pirate interrupted before he could say something stupid. "Don't read into this," she said coldly. "I wanted sex, nothing more."

He watched as Isabela stood up to get dressed. "I know I'd be good to you," claimed Harlen. After all, he stayed in this city for her. Two months have passed since the ship wrecked. Most of the others found jobs that returned them to the sea. He took a post out on the docks so he could stay as long as Isabela needed.

The pirate sighed. "I'm sure you would, sweet thing," she said, "but I'm not the one for you." She focused her eyes onto the floor. Thoughts of Hawke returned. "Or for anyone for that matter," she muttered to herself. Before he could say anything else, she spoke first. "Trust me, you're better off." The Rivaini shot him a disarming smile. "Come on," she said. "Let's go back down to drink, my treat." He wordlessly nodded. Isabela did feel a bit guilty for her callousness, but it was better this way. Learning it now would save him from a worse heartache later.

Isabela sat her favorite stool, while mentally cursing at Hawke. Only the damned warrior could make good sex feel so wrong. Sex didn't even seem appealing. Would anyone believe that Captain Isabela was not in the mood? Aveline would have a field day. The pirate downed another cup of whiskey. It seemed like the bitter liquid was her only friend. Anyone who tried to talk to her was ignored as she revisited thoughts from the evening.

"Why couldn't you stay out of Kirkwall forever?" Again, it haunted her. Sex with Harlen did little to relieve the guilt. Poor lad looked like he was about to burst into tears. She pitied him. It was her fault. Everything was her fault. Of course, because Isabela was the villain. Leaving, or staying, nothing seemed to work. She was angry with herself. Things were so simple before she met Hawke. She had a ship; she sailed the Waking Sea, while dueling and pillaging wherever she liked. Now, everything was different. Hawke made her different. The warrior threw her off balance, and she hated it.

Another swig of whiskey, and Corff appeared a little more attractive.

Another swig, the room spun a little more.

Another swig, she forgot that look of despair on Hawke's face.

Another swig, the floor shifted under her like waves in the ocean.

Another swig, the lights went out, and Isabela no longer dwelled on the lover she abandoned.

* * *

Hawke got out her bed the next morning. She didn't get any sleep at all. The Champion knew she screwed up with Isabela. She felt guilty for hurting the pirate's feelings, though she meant every word of her rant. What right did she have to lecture the woman on what to do? Hawke got caught up in the moment herself, and she really did want to continue. However, she knew she couldn't handle the aftermath. Isabela threw her off, and she needed to reorient herself.

The Champion glanced down at her journal entry from last night. The words were filled with anger, a little hate and a lot of guilty longing; all of which helped her sort through her feelings. She opened the desk drawer and pulled out a small talisman. Varric told her it was Rivaini, but that was all he knew. They found it half a year ago while traveling in the disused tunnels below the Docks.

Hawke originally tried to sell it, but no one would buy it. The thing was nothing more than a small flower painted onto small wooden disk that was attached to a piece of twine to form a necklace. By all accounts, it was worthless. Hawke still kept it as another guilty reminder of Isabela, as if the massive scar on her left arm from the Arishok duel wasn't enough.

The warrior shook her head to get rid of foolish thoughts. She took another look at the talisman. Perhaps Isabela would like it as a gift. Maybe it'd make the Rivaini woman more apt to accepting an apology. Hawke bitterly chuckled to herself. Here she was, basically planning to bribe the woman who scorned her into forgiving her. The word "pathetic" never seemed more appropriate than now. Love makes people do really stupid things.

She found Isabela nursing her head and a cup of ale in the Hanged Man. The pirate always said the best cure for a hangover was more drinking. The woman looked neither happy nor upset. Hawke walked up to her. "Isabela," she called out.

The pirate didn't acknowledge Hawke. She was lost in her own thoughts. Andraste's blighted knickers, she couldn't even remember how she got back into bed last night. Isabela got drunk often, but never that drunk. She knew her limits, and exactly when to stop to achieve that perfect balance of incoherency and joyful buzz. Rarely did she ever wake up with little to no memory of the evening before.

Thinking that Isabela was ignoring her, Hawke sat down across from the pirate. "I'm sorry about what I said last night. I had no right…"

Isabela's snapped into focus the moment the warrior sat down. "You had every right," she interrupted. "I know I screwed up with you. If it makes you feel better, I feel like shit about what happened." Guilt seemed to bother her more these days.

"So you won't leave again?" Hawke's voice seemed just a bit too hopeful.

The pirate sighed. "Not yet," she said. It was hard to find another ship willing to take on a woman. At least, this was the reason she gave herself. Never would she admit to staying in Kirkwall for one person.

The Champion awkwardly stood there, unsure of what to say next. Isabela wasn't holding a grudge, nor was Hawke angry anymore. A tentative moment of understanding passed between them. "Oh," she squeaked. She had nearly forgotten the necklace sitting in her pocket. For a moment, Hawke debated on whether or not to give the thing to Isabela or save it for another day. Her impulsive side won. "Here," she said while handing the talisman to the Rivaini.

Isabela looked down at the trinket. Her eyes widened in surprise. She paused to stare at Hawke. Was this some sort of cruel joke?

"You don't like it?" asked the warrior.

Blinking, the Rivaini replied, "It's not that. Do you know what this is?" A genuine look of confusion was on Hawke's face. It appeared that the Champion did not know after all. Isabela internally groaned. She'd prefer a horrible joke. A gift with such innocent intent was not an easy thing to turn away, and this gift especially, was particularly disturbing for the pirate.

She explained what it was. "You see these petals," she said. Once the warrior heard the line, she blushed and nervously shifted. Then she paled as Isabela described its purpose. A small charm that helped people search for love, what could be more meaningful if there was any meaning to what relationship they did have.

"I'm sorry, it was inappropriate of me," said Hawke.

Isabela shook her head. "No, you didn't know. It's a thoughtful gift." The talisman was a nice reminder of happier times, when she was still an innocent girl in Rivain.

* * *

Harlen noticed the necklace that Isabela wore lately. The simplicity of the wood with twine contrasted greatly with her usual golden adornments. The pirate kept fingering it, as if it were a prized possession. He was jealous. Someone in this city meant a lot to her, and he appeared to be winning in the race for her heart. That Isabela still called him a boy also made him very angry. Harlen needed to show her he was a man.

"Did the Champion give that to you?" he casually asked one day. He did it only to start a conversation. Serah Hawke always showed displeasure with Isabela's advances. He figured it was because she was also a woman.

Isabela rubbed the charm and smiled unconsciously. "Yes," she replied. Odd, how this cheap, meaningless trinket actually made her feel a bit happier.

Harlen frowned. It was an unexpected answer, but now he knew what he needed to do to prove himself to Isabela.

The next day, Hawke was on her way to visit Fenris when a man's voice called out to challenge her. She turned around to see a young man with short, blonde hair panting as if he ran from somewhere far. "Duel for Isabela?" she questioned, "Are you mad?

"We're both in love with her, and she has to choose one of us," he proclaimed, which effectively caused whispers to ripple through the gathering crowd of spectators.

Hawke laughed. "You don't know her at all, do you?" She watched him tighten his jaw in anger at the accusation. "She won't choose either of us. Isabela takes what she wants. Dueling me will accomplish nothing." The Champion turned to leave.

"It will prove my love!" With a loud battle cry, Harlen lunged at Hawke with a knife.

The warrior flipped around and dodged the charge with ease. Being a normal day, Hawke wore no armor nor carried anything more than a boot knife. She deftly maneuvered to avoid his wide sweeps of the blade. Using his inexperience in her favor, Hawke managed to grab Harlen's right arm and twist it behind his back, which caused him to drop the blade. He writhed and swung his left arm wildly in an attempt to break free from the hold.

"Stop," ordered Hawke as she tightened the twist just enough to cause a bit of pain.

Harlen cried out. "Alright!" he shouted. "Let me go."

The warrior did as he asked. It was a mistake. As soon as she released him, he turned around and tackled the Champion. The wind was knocked out of her for a second. Harlen lifted his fist to punch her, but Hawke regained her bearings faster than he expected. She slammed her fist down onto his nose. It began bleeding. He was stunned enough for the Champion to switch their positions and shove his face into the ground. "Someone fetch the guard," she shouted at the crowd of onlookers.

He struggled a lot. It took two other guards to help control the boy. Eventually, he was dragged into the Keep while kicking and screaming.

* * *

"Are you sure you want to talk to him?" asked Aveline. She was standing across from Hawke at the entrance to the Keep's jail cells. The warrior came by a little after her scuffle with the worker from the docks to ask if she could speak to the lad after he calmed down. The guard captain was worried for her friend and extremely angry with the pirate. What did Isabela do to have the poor man blindly challenging Hawke to duels? The damned woman didn't say very much either when Aveline went to question her.

"_That idiot," muttered Isabela. "He better not expect me to bail him out."_

The guard captain was appalled at how selfish the bitch could be.

"Yes," responded Hawke. Wordlessly, Aveline led her friend into the dungeon. She walked in to see the young sailor slumped against the cell wall. He weakly cradled his sides. Hawke rubbed her own sore jaw, which was hit as the boy flailed wildly when they tried to restrain him.

"Are you here to mock me?" He thought the Champion cheated by calling in the guards to their duel.

"No," she said, "I'm here to talk."

"Right," he responded in disbelief. It seemed that forcing him to kiss the ground wasn't insult enough.

Hawke grimaced. "Do you consider Isabela some prize to be won?" The Champion intended to talk some sense into the lad. Otherwise, he'd end up attempting to challenge her as soon as he got out of jail.

"No," he shouted, "of course not!" Harlen grabbed the bars between them in anger. How he wished he could bend the steel rods out of the way so he could fight against Hawke again.

"Then why challenge me to a duel?" She hoped that reason would punch past his naïve devotion to the pirate. Hawke wondered if it would work; it didn't do much in her own case.

"To prove myself to her," he said, "that I'm better for her than you are."

The Champion frowned. The possessive side of her wanted to retort his thinking, while the rational side knew no one person fit Isabela the way the pirate needed. "What makes you think she'd accept you after that?" Asking him questions forced Harlen to think through his actions. Maybe if he did that, he would come to realize his foolishness.

"I don't know." He slumped against the stone wall. The consequences never really occurred to him before. All he could think of was a fantasy of how he would win and prove himself. The Champion was starting to make more sense, and he resented it. "Didn't you duel the Qunari for her?"

"I did it to save her life." This was different. The duel against the Arishok was more than just about her feelings. As guilty as Isabela was, she didn't deserve the fate the Qun demanded.

"See," he said as if what she said emphasized his point.

Hawke shook her head. He didn't understand. "It didn't work boy. Isabela left." The words left a bitter taste in her mouth. "She runs from love. If you keep pushing, she'll run from you."

Harlen jumped up in frustration. "She hasn't run from you," he accused. "She loves you!" He grabbed the bars again. Finally, he admitted it to himself. Harlen knew it all along. The way Isabela stared at that ship in the bottle and the necklace had more than simple joy in a memory. The affection in her eyes said more than any words could convey. It wasn't fair.

"No, Harlen, she doesn't," Hawke snapped. "She did run from me. She ran for three years." The warrior couldn't accept his words. She couldn't let herself believe for a moment that Isabela returned her feelings. The heartbreak if it turned out to be wrong would be devastating. She knew she couldn't handle it. "We're friends, nothing more." The Champion closed her eyes to calm down and clear her head. "If you want Isabela, tell her," she said. "Isabela isn't damsel waiting for a hero to come save her. She makes her own decisions, for good or for ill." Finished, Hawke moved to leave. As her back turned, she heard him shout.

"You really love her don't you?"

Hawke stopped in her tracks. Without turning back to face him, she tilted her face to the left. "Yes," she answered, "I do."

* * *

_I was reading my past notes, and found some scenes I wrote out, but never put into the story. I have a few more scenes that were left out from other chapters. _

**Outtakes **

**Chapter 3**

Isabela noticed the warrior was watching her more, and it was not pure lust in those eyes. She didn't like it. The pirate wanted only fun, games, sex and Maker willing, money. Attachment was never part of the bargain. She knew this would happen. This is what she got for staying in one place for so long, or even staying with one person.

"You're staring," she accused. She warned Hawke before. Nothing good would come of those feelings.

The warrior looked away, embarrassed. "I, umm… nothing," she stumbled. They were in the middle of Hightown and enjoying a stroll in the middle of the night. Hawke had invited a number of their companions out to hunt the latest group of insane zealots that ran amok in the streets, the Followers of She. Who "She" was didn't actually matter. Hawke merely wanted to distract herself.

"What are you doing, Hawke?" demanded Isabela when they finally returned to the Amell estate. The pirate went with Hawke most nights now, and left after a quick tumble – no feelings involved.

**Chapter 4**

At least constantly moving from port to port made her harder to track. Mainly, Isabela was at sea again. She stood out on the bow as a massive storm rocked the ship from side to side. Tightly holding onto the rail, she watched the waves crash into each other, felt the rain and wind whipping against her face, and listened to the roar of thunder in the distance. This was the life she loved. With every day, the sting of leaving Hawke behind lessoned as the ocean welcomed her back. The Champion was in Kirkwall now, and she would not return there.

A few months into her new life, she found herself in Llomerryn of all places. It wasn't as if she hadn't docked there before, but for the first time, she wanted to see her mother. Years had passed since she last looked at the bitch who sold her into a kind of slavery. The resentment was still there. Yet she felt a sudden desire to find the woman after all that time.

Surprisingly, she was alive. The woman was still pretending to be a Rivaini Seer of all things. Of course, Isabela knew better as she walked past the tent flap where the woman set up shop. The usual things, a crystal ball, some talismans, fancy cloths and other supposedly powerful items were prominently displayed around the tiny space.

The old woman looked up at her. "I feel you're searching for something. I may help you find it." She gestured for Isabela to sit.

The pirate did just that. She didn't say anything of course. Her own mother didn't seem to recognize her anymore. "I am," she responded.

"Well, if you tell me what it is, and give me your hand, I may be able to help you." The woman held out her hand. There were many rings and bracelets on it, just as Isabela recalled. However, those hands were far thinner and more wrinkled than her memory. How much had time changed her?

The pirate carefully studied her mother's face in the dim light. The single candle was not enough to show much, but she could tell. The Rivaini Seer was not going through the best of times. Her face was sunken in with early signs of starvation, so much for the woman who sold her daughter for gold coins and a goat. "I'm here looking for my mother."

The elder woman smiled. "Ah, a lost child," she said. "For ten silvers an hour, I can contact her from beyond the grave."

Isabela laughed. "You're mistaken. My mother is not dead."

The other Rivaini paused. "Then why have you come to me child."

The pirate scowled. "I'm here to find the woman who sold me to a ship captain a dozen years ago for a handful of gold coins and a goat." She glared at her mother, who sat there with her mouth agape in shock.

"You…" she stuttered before whispering a long forgotten name. It was the name Isabela had when she was a child, and used until the death of her husband. She abandoned it long ago, because of the memories it brought up, and because it was convenient. "Why are you here?"

_Insert lines about self-validation, and possibly think of Hawke. Mother rejects daughter; Isabela leaves and wonders why she even bothered to look for the bitter old woman at all._

* * *

___Please let me know if you'd like to see more. _Reviews would be appreciated.


	7. Conversations

_I did look over the party banter a few times to help write this chapter. All I can say is please try to read between the lines and let me know what you find._

* * *

Chapter 7: Conversations

"Why do you hold back around Hawke?" asked Merrill as she prepared the dinner. Isabela had stopped by to check on the increasingly reclusive Dalish elf, who had been spending more time sitting in front of her mirror. While she stirred the pot that contained the left over scraps of whatever food was available in the home, the pirate was whittling away at a small chunk of wood to form a cylindrical item. Yet as the question left her mouth, the Rivaini paused to stare at the elf with a raised eyebrow as if the query had seemingly popped from thin air.

"What makes you say that, kitten?"

"You say less dirty things when she's around, and you never say them to her like the way you did before the Qunari left." She noticed these things of course. Isabela was always obvious with her intentions when it came down to sex and fighting. What confused her was that Isabela had no reason for acting this way. Hawke loved her and the pirate definitely knew it. The warrior admitted confessing to the Rivaini after drinking too much in the Hanged Man a little after being dubbed Kirkwall's Champion. So now, Merrill wanted to know why Isabela tried to act as if nothing had happened between the two of them.

"That's silly," replied Isabela. "I never hold back, unless it involves dying."

"But you do though," insisted Merrill. Every time the pirate flirted with Hawke, she immediately withdrew as if she knew she did something wrong. It was a bit frustrating to watch the two women avoid their feelings for each other. The Dalish were rarely this roundabout. If love was mutual, then it was good. Admittedly, most couples were men with women, but that did not prohibit the exceptions. It was merely discouraged in the face of their dwindling population. "Is it because she's special to you? Because you're special to her," she explained. "You can hardly tell, because she acts all grumpy most of the time, and she barely ever smiles or laughs anymore, but Hawke definitely cares about you." The elf stared intently at Isabela in search of a response. She was merely doing her little part to helping those two. The Champion was far too stubborn and broody, so much like Fenris. It was sad really. Their feelings for each other was as clear as day. Why they insisted on lying to themselves was beyond her.

For all her stories, Isabela really had trouble with the Champion. The pirate was never one to hold back. She was so exciting and fun, and Merrill missed her terribly for those three years, not as much as Hawke of course, but she did miss the Rivaini woman all the same. Her stories were always about indulgence and pleasure, yet right now, there she was, restraining herself from the only thing she really wanted more than a ship.

"She's no more special than you are," said the pirate.

"That's too bad," Merrill's shoulders slumped a little in disappointment. One could swear that her ears flattened and her eyes began to tear just like a small puppy that had just been chastised. It was an irresistible look.

Isabela smiled. The elf could not get any cuter. "It's alright, kitten. Hawke's a tough one. She'll be fine."

The blood mage tried to smile back. "I know, but it just would've been so cute."

* * *

"I shit you not," shouted Varric as he made grandiose gestures with his arms. "There I was, desperately shooting out a volley of arrows while Hawke goes charging in like a possessed madwoman into a group of darkspawn and a giant, twenty-foot ogre." The group around him made noises of awe at the story of the Champion's latest escapade along the coast. "So, I managed to fire an arrow right into the ogre's eye as Hawke jumped up onto its back to bury her sword into the base of its neck."

"Don't forget the part where it neatly crushed its pals on the way down," interrupted the pirate. Isabela sat down at a nearby table, and helped herself to a cup of ale. "Nearly got the big girl too, that was a laugh."

"Rivaini," the dwarf enthusiastically greeted. He shooed away the audience, while assuring them of more stories later in the week. "Where have you been all night? You missed an excellent game of cards."

"I've been working," said the pirate. She smirked and produced five small pouches that clinked as they landed on the table.

Varric laughed. "Relieving fools of their gold again?"

"It's easier than stealing from someone like you." She grinned, proud that her latest venture proved so profitable.

"I would hope so, or more people would try." Varric took a gulp of ale, and then gestured for the waitress to bring some food and more drink. "Up for some gambling?" he asked, while eyeing the coin purses she emptied.

"Always," replied Isabela.

They laid out the cards and placed bets. It was a competition of who could cheat better. Isabela snuck in cards; Varric secretly marked the most useful ones. A few rounds into the game, the dwarf was up fifty bits.

"Excuse me," said a young woman as she interrupted. She turned to Isabela and asked in a shy voice, "Are you really the Champion's pirate queen?"

Isabela turned around, confused. "What?" She glanced at Varric. This was the first she heard of this, though the Rivaini did appreciate the label. Pirate Queen seemed appropriately extravagant.

He chuckled. "Hawke had to duel for a reason. What's more riveting than a grand romance?"

"So strange that she did it for a woman," quipped the woman's companion.

"Who cares? It's romantic." The woman lightly chastised. "Can you imagine your husband doing that for you?"

"I can imagine him falling flat on his face before it even starts," her companion dryly replied.

Varric feigned a cough.

Embarrassed, they turned their attention back to the dwarf and the pirate. "So what did you do to prove yourself?" asked the woman.

"Prove myself?" Again, Isabela looked to the dwarf to fill her in on the details.

"You know," said the woman as she nervously twisted a handkerchief. "How did you prove yourself worthy of the Champion's love? That's why you're back right?"

The pirate briefly thought about her options. Lies were usually far more fun than the truth. "I…"

"She stole the Queen of Antiva," the dwarf answered for her.

A brief flash of surprise appeared on Isabela's face, which was quickly replaced with a sly grin. "Attempted to steal," she corrected. "It turned out much harder than I thought."

Varric snapped his fingers, as if he suddenly recalled the details. "That's right. You were caught by Antivan Crows."

"Oh yes, and they were _so_ cruel too," Isabela said dramatically. "Every night they forced me to endure grueling sessions where they poked me with long, _hard_, **rods**." She watched with pleasure when the two women blushed as she drew out the last three words. "The worst came when they only let me watch them poke each other." A positively salacious smile formed on the pirate's face.

"H…how did you escape?" one stuttered, as she recovered from Isabela's licentious comment.

"Ah," replied Varric. "Rivaini here managed to defeat all her guards in a large group duel, and her guards all collapsed from exhaustion." He smirked at Isabela as they continued with the story, and filled it with more exaggeration as it progressed like it was some sort of competition. It was a tale of violence, adventure and sex. Nothing could get more exciting.

"So you see," the dwarf finally said. "The King of Ferelden was so amazed, he begged her to stay in Denerim as a noble, but Rivaini missed Kirkwall and yours truly…" He paused as he bowed for the crowd before saying, "too much to stay away for much longer."

The amassed group of drunkards all clapped and hooted. "Better to be back from that backwater dog country," they commented.

"So what's this about another man challenging the Champion to a duel for you?" If Isabela was bothered by the question, she didn't show it. Everyone had heard the rumors by now. She didn't care if they whispered it constantly behind her back. The boy acted on his own; she held no responsibility. At least that's what she told herself.

"I heard it was Guardsman Donnic," shouted another customer.

"No way," slurred another. "Isn't that the guard captain's man? He comes here all the time. He's frumpy lookin'. Can't be him."

"Now now," said Varric. He held up his hands to silence the crowd. "It wasn't a guard." The dwarf gestured for everyone to lean in, as if he was telling a secret. Even the Rivaini was curious to see what Varric would say. He didn't know much about Harlen the dockworker. Few people did. "Now, I can't say this too loudly, since some parties want this hidden, but it was a very prominent individual in a very proud and ordered military society that's stationed by the Gallows." Varric nodded his head as if to reassure the listeners. "You can understand why I can't be telling just anyone."

Hushed pleads for a name echoed through the audience. The dwarf shook his head, and pretended that such a secret was not to be shared. The murmurs grew insistent. Varric shrugged his shoulders as if it couldn't be helped and said, "Alright, but you didn't hear it from me. A certain Knight-Captain has taken fancy to our lovely Pirate Queen." The crowd looked at the Rivaini in absolute shock before a ripple of whispers traveled through it.

After they dispersed, Isabela looked over to Varric with an amused smile on her face. "Cullen?" she said, "a mage-hating celibate. You place me on such a high pedestal."

"What can I say? Blondie would probably get a kick out of it." He shot her a knowing smile. Varric didn't need to talk to Isabela about Hawke. He knew, and that was enough.

* * *

She was helping herself to the fair collection of wine in the deteriorated mansion where Fenris lived. He was brooding as usual, yet his demeanor had become less severe lately. Even the number of his deadpan comments increased. Perhaps it had something to do with the death of Danarius. Years of running and fighting for freedom ended when the magister dropped dead into a puddle of puke on the floor of the Hanged Man. The taxing ordeal was over, and he was truly free.

He was seated in a large cushioned chair next to the fireplace, while Isabela lounged on a couch. She studied his body, and tried to imagine just how the tattoos looked under his armor. The paranoid elf rarely took it off, and always wore it in public regardless of the occasion. The thought of tracing her finger along one of those lyrium lines made her body quiver. Elves were always _so_ flexible.

"Do you intend to stare at me the entire afternoon?" Fenris took another swig from his bottle.

"No, I was thinking that we'd do something _much_ more fun." A smirk appeared on her face.

"No," the elf dryly replied.

Isabela pouted. "Why not? I'd make those tattoos **glow**." She winked at him.

"You're off limits," he said, "might as well have a sign."

The Rivaini left her spot to seat herself in his lap, while pushing her chest out just a little to tempt him. "Not at all," she replied, "I'd let you touch me anytime."

He stared straight into her eyes. "Hawke is my friend. I will not betray her."

Isabela groaned. "You really know how to kill the mood."

Fenris shrugged. "It is a talent." He averted his gaze to recall the same comment made by Varric some time ago.

The pirate returned to her previous place on the couch. "Fine," she relented, "if we're not going to do it, we might as well do the next best thing."

Curious, the elf asked, "What would that be?"

She smiled widely. "Getting drunk off our asses, while playing a game of strip Diamondback," she answered.

Fenris chuckled. "You are incorrigible."

"Of course," replied the Rivaini. "I wouldn't be me otherwise." A whore, who flung herself at every half-decent lay in Thedas, could never offer her love or loyalty to anyone person. The pirate wasn't worthy of such devotion, least of all the Champion's.

* * *

Isabela was bored. For once, the City of Chains was not going mad around them, or at least it wasn't mad enough to need Hawke to run around killing people. The pirate wandered into the Darktown clinic in search of something exciting. She browsed through Anders' collection of ancient Tevinter tomes in hopes of finding something pornographic, or at least an anatomy book. The Rivaini picked one up and opened it only to find words from a long forgotten language. After examining it from different angles, Isabela asked, "How do you read this?"

Anders' shrugged. "Mages learn a little bit of old Tevinter writing in our studies. Justice fills in the rest."

"Isn't it boring? All that studying," she commented.

"Very," replied the mage. "I can't remember how many times I fell asleep during my lessons only to be awakened by a very painful shock spell from one of my instructors."

"The lessons did come in handy at the end at least." Isabela set the book down to look at the healer. Something was different. He had aged a lot in the last few months.

"There is that," Anders admitted, "but the price of life imprisonment isn't worth it."

The pirate sighed. "That is _depressing_." Uninterested in another rant about the injustices of the Circle, she continued to wander the room, while touching and poking all the various ingredients and devices.

"What are you doing here?" asked the healer as he stopped the woman from touching something potentially dangerous.

"I'm bored." She shrugged. No one but the mage seemed available at this time of day.

"And what?" asked Anders. "You want me to entertain you?"

"Well, that is a thought." Isabela recalled her last sexual encounter with him years ago at the Pearl. It brought a smile to her face.

"Just don't," he said.

"Not you too," she complained. "You're supposed to be the fun one."

"The way you flirt with her like it means nothing is cruel. I refuse to participate." Ander's crossed his arms and pursed his lips in anger.

The pirate frowned. "You know I don't do it on purpose. It's just – **who** I am." Everyone knew this. She made it no secret.

"Are you sure, Isabela?" he asked. "You came back to face the Qunari." The expression on his face softened. "Somewhere in there is a heart of gold. Why is it so hard to accept that you're more than a pirate whore?"

"If I ever had a heart of gold, I'd have plucked it out long ago and traded it for a new ship," Isabela quipped.

Sighing, the mage replied, "If that's all you wanted, you would've gotten it by now."

She looked at him incredulously.

"You could've asked Hawke a long time ago. The way things are now, she'd be liable to buy you the thing." Maker knew that the Champion did have the coin. Her mercenary jobs paid well enough, and her investments brought a steady income.

"Bullshit," replied Isabela. "She's not that generous."

"She'd do it to lance the wound in her heart. The only reason she hasn't, is that she doesn't want you to leave. You haven't asked because you don't want to go either." Anders' eyes began glowing blue as Justice attempted to come out and lecture the Rivaini pirate.

"I know what I am, Anders," she said, while ignoring the mages internal struggle to regain control from his spirit companion. "Hawke deserves better."

The glow faded as Anders regained command. "She deserves a chance to be happy with the person she loves."

* * *

"It was only a small duel over who owed whom money. The fellow is fine." Isabela pleaded her case to the guard captain about her latest brawl on Lowtown streets. Her mood had been unusually pessimistic lately, so she attempted to cure it with a nice round of gambling and ale. Unfortunately, the blighter she played was on a horrible losing streak and bet more than he could afford. For that, the man enlisted the aid of a couple of his friends to ambush her later that night. She dispatched them quickly, but was caught by a nearby guardsman. Now she was trying to avoid another night in jail.

"He's barely alive," retorted Aveline, "and another is dead."

"It's not my fault they snuck up on a girl in the middle of the night. I just… reacted." Isabela shrugged as if stabbing was the most normal response for a midnight surprise.

"Fine!" Aveline threw her hands up in resignation. "They were at fault anyway. She stood up from her seat. "Look, when I told you to stop fighting in bar brawls, I didn't mean, 'Turn them into street brawls.' One of these days I won't be able to protect you from the law."

"You are the law." The pirate smiled. After so many years, they had built a comfortable rapport.

"It's more than just me," The warrior recited. "There are guards, magistrates, and men of law."

"I have the utmost faith in your abilities to keep me out of too much trouble." The Rivaini winked.

The guard captain sighed. "You don't understand, Isabela," she said. "I can help out with minor things here and there, but I can't shield you forever." She raised a hand to prevent the pirate from interrupting. "I know your type. You'll end up in something too deep to climb out of, and if I know Hawke, she'll stick out her neck to save you again."

The rogue frowned. The Champion wasn't exactly self-sacrificing, but what Aveline said was true. Hawke would probably do the same for all her friends, but it seemed like everything held more meaning whenever the Rivaini was involved. Isabela hated it. Tacking on emotional baggage to every deed made everything else harder. Their sodding situation was hard enough to deal with already. The pirate didn't need protection from the warrior, nor did she deserve it. "She's an idiot."

The guardswoman mentally agreed. "Hawke is a stubborn woman. She won't let you go. The least you could do now is try not to hurt her more than you already have." Finished, Aveline opened the door to let the rogue out.

* * *

The Champion was at it again. She invited everyone on a trip to see the Dalish by the peak of Sundermount in order to track down a supposedly dangerous criminal. The rumored murderer turned out to be the incredibly handsome and very flexible Zevran, a man Isabela greatly enjoyed for multiple reasons. At her suggestion, Hawke let the assassin go, and they tracked down the remaining Crows camped out by the Wounded Coast.

"What about sex?' asked Isabela. It was impulse. The man was still a good lay. But she immediately regretted blurting it out after seeing the Champion's reaction.

Hawke stiffened, but said nothing. Isabela was her own person. The warrior had no right to interfere. She frowned as Isabela swayed towards the Antivan. "Don't take too long," she finally said before turning to walk away.

Isabela didn't miss the look of hurt in the warrior's eyes. She still walked off with Zevran anyway. Why not? There was nothing to stop her from having sex with him. As soon as they were out of sight, the pirate grabbed him into a steamy kiss and rubbed her groin against his.

Zevran chuckled. "As eager as ever," he said in that incredibly sexy accent.

Isabela moaned with desire as he expertly ran his hands down her chest, yet the only thing she could think of was Hawke, and how her voice cracked just a little when she told them to hurry. The Antivan was quick to notice the pirate's souring mood.

He paused in his efforts to unlace her bodice. "Are you sure you want this?"

The Rivaini sighed. "No," she replied. The image of Hawke's pained expression refused to leave her mind.

"Fair enough," he replied as he retracted his hands. "I will not force you."

Isabela got off Zevran and collapsed on the sand. "Balls," she cursed. It was frustrating. Even rutting in the sand seemed uninteresting now.

Zevran leaned forward onto his knees as he sat in the sand next to the prone pirate. "May I ask? Does this have anything to do with the Champion?"

She turned to face him. "I must be slipping if it's that obvious."

He laughed and shook his head. "Not you," he replied. "The Hero of Ferelden gave that same deadly glare every time I…" Another chuckle escaped his mouth as the assassin recalled his adventures during the blight. "Ventured into _forbidden territory_," he finished. "You care about her."

"Yes," Isabela grudgingly admitted. She recognized these feelings, and hoped they were a result of a fleeting moment of weakness. Yet as months passed, they did not ebb. It was more than a desire to take Hawke as a lover. For the first time, Isabela wanted change herself for another, and she resented it.

"I see," he replied. Her candid answer was unexpected, but oddly touching. "Well, if we are not going to have sex, I would appreciate if you inform her as such."

"Why?" The pirate smirked as she enjoyed the lighter tone of his statement. He wasn't going to lecture her. It was a welcome change to all the dreary conversations about Hawke.

"My dear, Isabela," Zevran said happily. "Your Champion looked like she wished to put my head on a pike. If I will not reap the benefits, I'd much rather not suffer the consequences."

The Rivaini woman laughed. "Then why did you accept?"

The assassin feigned a look of indignity. "I cannot turn down such a beautiful woman. What kind of gentlemen would I be?"

They got up and brushed the beach sand from their clothes. He looked over to the pirate as she was tying the previously loosened laces of her outfit. Though the Rivaini hid behind a mask of lust, she was troubled. Feeling particularly generous at the moment, he said to her, "Might I offer some advice?" He flashed Isabela a dashing smile. "If the Champion is truly the one you want, then perhaps you should seize the opportunity before it passes."

* * *

She watched Harlen as his ship cast off from the docks. He decided to leave soon after getting out of the Keep's jail. Naturally, he didn't know Isabela was watching him depart the city from a hidden spot behind a few crates. It wouldn't be fair, especially after their last conversation.

"_You're in love with her; a blind man could see it. I chose not to, but I can't pretend to be ignorant anymore." A heartbroken smile appeared. There was nothing more painful than watching the woman he loved, love another. "She told me she loved you, and even if you think of me as naïve or foolish, please listen. You deserve to be happy. Tell her how you feel, because she thinks you don't care, and it's killing her. I don't know how she can stand it. I know I couldn't." He couldn't compete, so he made the greatest sacrifice to prove the depth of his feelings. He let her go. "I know you. You're a good person, so stop lying to yourself. Farewell, Aveline." Harlen kissed her hand one last time. To the young sailor, she'd always be Aveline, the lighthearted, Rivaini quartermaster with whom he fell in love. _

It left her speechless and as she watched the ship disappear off in the horizon, a frowned formed on Isabela's face. The pirate had always taken what she wanted – except love. Until now, she never truly wanted it.

* * *

_I won't lie, the font effects were heavily influenced by chapter 4 of My Tornado by leogrl19_

Outtakes:

Chapter 7

Part 1

Isabela never confided in the elf, which would've been nice, but that was not something the pirate would do. She acted much like and older sister, kind of like a guide and sometimes was protective. Merrill wondered if her relationship with the woman was similar to Bethany and Hawke's. The idea excited her, because she never had siblings, and as the First, she was always a little isolated. Yet now, when the Gods were blessing her with such wonderful friends, two of them remained unhappy. Merrill could only do her best to encourage Isabela. Hawke too, of course, but the warrior was already on the edge. Right now, it was Isabela pushing away.

Part 2

Isabela sat on the railing in the Chantry as Hawke spoke to the Grand Cleric for some reason or other. She didn't care enough to pay attention. It was mostly uninteresting debate about the uneasy peace between the mages and the templars. Sebastian walked up next to her, and stood there while pointedly watching their companion with the Chantry priest.

"I'm not going to confess," said the pirate.

"I haven't asked you to," he replied.

"You were not asking very loudly."

Part 3

_Made up Companion reactions to "What about sex?" offer to Zevran, because I can't remember them._

"Maker's breath," exclaimed Aveline.

"But where would you… in the sand?" questioned Merrill.

"Just… hurry up," said Anders.

Sebastian sighed and turned away.

Varric wore an amused smile.

"Your preference for rolling about on the beach while unclothed shall always mystify me," said Fenris.

* * *

_Please review_

_Those who reviewed in the old ch. 7 may have trouble leaving a new review, because your old reviews are still logged there. If you want, you can sign out and leave an anonymous one. I will reply to the penname that you give._


	8. Consequences

_A/N: Interesting fact, most names of the Ferelden nobility are Gaelic in origin. Perhaps it'll help all you authors out there who make up secondary characters like I do. _

_Many thanks to Leogrl19, who has been upgraded from super appreciated reviewer to _muse. _Her input drastically improved the most important scenes of this chapter. _

_On another note, due to a significantly darker theme in this chapter, the rating has been changed to M. This is __**not**__ for sexual reasons. I expect that I shall be hated after this. _

_You have been warned._

* * *

Chapter 8: Consequences

She was drowning. Thoughts of her father flashed through her mind. He passed away peacefully in his bed from a grave illness. Thank the Maker he was not around to see the fate of his family.

The waves tossed her body back and forth as the water slowly forced its way into her lungs. Now it was Carver. She could still see his body crumpled in a bloody heap on the ground. The crimson liquid seeped into her mother's dress as the woman sat there begging him to wake up.

Her limbs gave out as the lack of air registered in her mind. _Bethany…_ The girl was forced into a fate that she never wanted.

Her eyesight narrowed. The light was disappearing. Finally, there was mother, the final victim of a delusional blood mage.

She was dying. It was just as well. Hawke was cursed. Her whole family was gone, because she couldn't protect them. If things continued, all of her companions would fall too. It was better for her to surrender, and let the current take her.

Just as she closed her eyes, something plunged into the water and lifted her back to the surface. The warrior sputtered and coughed the liquid out of her chest. She looked up.

_Isabela… _

Hawke felt a sense of relief, yet there was anxiety. She wanted to reach up, and touch the dusky woman's face. Was it good that she was here? Had she really been rescued from sinking into the depths of this sea?

Time passed and the warrior remained in the water. The pirate smiled at her, and held her arm, but that was all. For some reason she couldn't get on the boat, nor did Isabela let her. It was as if the pirate helped as a passing whim. The warrior felt frustrated. She wanted to yell, scream and fight – anything to make the Rivaini accept her. But she couldn't bring herself to do anything more than hold on. There was just something in those amber eyes that stopped her.

_Fear…._

Was it just the woman who held her at arm's length, or was it the Champion herself? Did she even truly love the pirate as she claimed, or did she like the idea of loving the unattainable? Hawke felt trapped between her desire and her logic.

The waves of the sea grew stronger. Dark clouds covered the skies above them. The little boat was not enough. Before she knew it, everything flipped, and now she was drowning again. This time, she dragged the pirate down with her. She needed to let Isabela go. The pirate would survive; she was a strong swimmer. But her hand refused to obey. Now they would both sink to the bottom. The strangest thing was that Isabela wasn't struggling against her. She let the Champion drag them both down.

_No!_

Hawke woke up in a cold sweat. The nightmare was so **real**. She could still feel the water in her lungs. The sun peaked through her curtains. The Champion looked around herself. This was indeed her room. Dreams aside, she had work to do. There was no time to ponder on things that would never happen.

* * *

The warrior rotated and rubbed her shoulders as she prepared to enter the Hanged man. She was stalling. Today was their weekly game, and Hawke felt uncomfortable. Isabela would be there. The Champion was still unsure of how to deal with the pirate. Since Isabela left with Zevran that day, she resolved to move on. There was little else she could do when the Rivaini so blatantly propositioned the man right in front of her. She knew the woman was promiscuous, but to ask the assassin right in front of her was outright spiteful.

She was jealous, even more so when the two returned from their endeavor with cute giggles and mysterious smiles. The assassin parted ways amicably enough. He said something in Antivan to the pirate, which Hawke didn't understand. A cocky grin and a flirtatious remark later, he left.

The feeling passed, but Hawke knew this was merely temporary. How long could she pine for the Rivaini? How many times could she just stand by and watch Isabela run off with yet another passing interest? The Champion knew that things could not continue as they were, so she resolved to move on. It wouldn't be easy, but perhaps one day, she could tell herself that she was no longer in love, and it would be true.

Now she was mentally preparing herself for another night of drinking and games with her friends in the only decent tavern in Lowtown. Hawke took a deep breath before walking through the doors. Her other companions were there. They did not need to deal with a selfish, brooding Champion stuck on an unrequited crush. Though, she suspected that the dwarf was happily making a good amount of coin selling two-bit versions of her failed romance to bored housewives and chantry sisters.

Hawke seated herself next to Varric, who was pouring himself another mug of ale, while Aveline and Donnic were chatting away about some logistics for the guard routes. Anders was writing away at a sheaf of paper that was undoubtedly another copy of his manifesto. Hawke assumed that it was Justice that drove the mage to write the thing so obsessively. Merrill tentatively poked at the fire. Isabela was prodding the Tal-Vashoth mercenary in the corner about Qunari mating habits, and Fenris… was late. Everything seemed normal.

She asked the dwarf about how he would pen their latest adventure to Darktown to defeat the last of the apostates that Meredith sent her after. "I feel bad for her. She was a good person who was forced into a corner."

Before Varric could answer, Justice immediately jumped in. "None of them would have turned to blood magic if it weren't for the templars and the Circle." The blue glow receded. Anders looked almost remorseful for the outburst, and without another word, he returned to writing his manifesto.

Carefully eyeing the mage, Varric opted to ignore the comment and move on. "Well, I think she's perfect after that crazy elf and the virgin." The two of them chuckled at the memory of Emile's plea to have sex before returning to the Circle.

Hawke glanced at Isabela in the corner. The Tal Vashoth mercenary made no eye contact with the pirate and wore an annoyed expression on his face. This was not the first night the Rivaini hounded him about the details of Qunari sex, and it was unlikely that it would be the last. At best, he rebuffed her inane questions with a grunt or a mumbled curse in his native language. Most times, he kept silent and completely ignored the curious pirate.

Finally, Fenris arrived. They all stopped their separate activities to congregate together at a table. Norah came around with more drinks and a few snacks. Anders was the one to deal, since he was the only one who could not physically cheat thanks to the spirit residing within him. Every time the mage tried, the blue glow in his eyes gave it away, not that the spirit even let him try.

The group was making their way through the third round when a number of guards stomped through the front door. It wasn't unusual for guards to hang out here after their shifts, but these did not stop to drink or greet the other regulars. Instead, the uniformed men and women walked up to their table. "Isabela of the Siren's Call," one said. "You are under arrest. Please come with us."

Everyone stood up to object. The sudden movement caused the guards to move for their weapons. They were intimidated. These were the people who single handedly defeated the Qunari forces; city guards didn't stand a chance. Still, the presence of Aveline did calm them some. The guard captain was demanding and harsh, but she respected the law and would not turn against them for doing their duty.

"Under who's orders?" demanded the redhead.

The leader of the group shrunk back as he made eye contact with his captain. "Magistrate Vanard's," he answered. Hawke vaguely recognized the name as a minor political opponent in the upper circles of Kirkwall. He hated her, but that was all she knew. The man avoided her like the plague and always turned away with a disgusted snort when they ran into each other.

Aveline groaned. "Let me see that warrant." The guard captain glanced through the paper. Worry spread across her face. "Isabela is being charged with theft, treason and inciting a revolt."

The Rivaini inhaled sharply. She had no intention of ending up on a hangman's noose. The pirate looked around for a good opportunity to disappear, but it was a little difficult to find an opening between her friends and the guards.

"Alright," said Aveline, "but…"

"Like hell!" shouted the Champion. She couldn't stand by to let them take Isabela away. This was more serious than a bar brawl; those charges were a death sentence. Even if they weren't lovers anymore, Isabela was still her friend.

Aveline managed to stop Hawke from acting out. "Calm down," she ordered. "We will take care of this. Just let her go with them."

Everyone else wanted to reject the idea. Isabela was one of them; no one would hand her over so easily. However, Aveline was part of them too, and they trusted her. They **had** to trust her, both as a friend and as the guard captain.

The pirate wanted to run. It was… instinct. A life on the darker side of the law usually meant avoiding the consequences of violating it. Namely, she did not want to be jailed if it was for forever. For a moment, she contemplated just stabbing the one closest to her and taking off during the ensuing confusion, but it seemed to have little chance of success. One look at Hawke's face, and Isabela knew she had to surrender. The Champion wore a pleading expression, which seemingly implied that she would find a way out of this somehow.

Hawke watched quietly as they led the Rivaini away towards the keep. Aveline gave them strict orders to keep Isabela safe. They seemed to take it to heart, and from the way the Champion glared at them, they were likely to listen out of fear of their lives.

"I hope you have a plan," said Varric as he watched the door close behind the guards.

"I'm not sure yet, but we'll figure it out," the guardswoman replied, while pointedly looking at Hawke with concern.

* * *

The guard captain barged into the office of Magistrate Vanard early the next morning. "What is the meaning of this?" Aveline asked the stern looking man. She slammed down the arrest warrant that the guards presented to her the previous evening.

"It is what it looks like. The Rivaini known as Captain Isabela is being charged with theft, piracy, inciting a rebellion and treason." He calmly realigned the papers on his desk that were set askew by the guard captain's violent action. This was Vanard's victory. There was no need for him to feel indignant or short-tempered in the face of this Ferelden.

"Why wasn't it sent to me first?" Aveline demanded. "That is procedure." She knew the reason of course, but she wanted to hear the reason from his lips. Just how good was he at lying?

Impassively, he replied, "You were off duty." The magistrate meticulously continued to work while Aveline fumed on the other side of his desk. The joy from this accomplishment was almost overwhelming. It took great effort for him to keep his voice even.

"You have no right to bypass my station." Doing so may as well be supporting anarchy. There was a reason behind law and order.

Vanard snapped. "I have every right!" he shouted. "I _**am**_ the magistrate! You are only a guard captain."

Aveline's lips drew into a thin line. "You have no proof of these accusations."

The magistrate quickly recomposed himself, and mentally chastised himself for the unbecoming outburst. "I don't need proof. There are more than enough stories."

"That is all they are," she said, "stories." There had to be more than half-hearted rumors started in the backroom of brothels and taverns. Vanard was no fool; he would have more. The Champion's supposed lover was charged with treason. Such a sensational arrest generally demanded a trial, and as such, proof.

"I'm sure we'll have a confession before the trial begins," he coldly replied.

The guard captain sternly glared at him. She knew what he meant. "I have guards posted outside her cell at all times, and they're loyal to me. You're not touching her."

"I will do what as I must to give Kirkwall justice." A frown formed on his face as he thought of his son, who did not get the same.

The guardswoman slammed her fist down on his table. "Don't you **dare** say it's justice." She sneered at the thought. "You are seeking revenge against Hawke. Don't try to hide you're vengeance under the name of justice."

Vanard's eyes briefly widened in surprise, but he recovered quickly. "Very well," the man admitted. "This is partly for my own satisfaction, but that does not change what that wench did. She is guilty, and we _will_ get the truth."

Aveline leaned in close. "Perhaps, but you are not touching her. My guards will have strict orders to bar you or any of your men from visiting her. If anything happens to her, I'll have you arrested."

He scoffed. "It is the city's right to torture traitors. I'd have broken no law."

"You assume that would make a difference." He was right though. She could not legally arrest him. Despite this action, Vanard was a good magistrate. The years after the death of his son may have made him bitter, but it also made him more dedicated in dealing out justice for the people of Kirkwall. Aveline wondered if he was the one who was wrong.

The guard captain preferred for Isabela to be outside of her jail. Even after what the woman did, she had her good points. Aveline saw under all those layers of tanned, lust-driven skin. There was a good heart. Regardless of what she claimed, the Rivaini genuinely cared for others.

Two days now, the pirate remained in the Keep's cells under constant guard. It wasn't that Aveline didn't trust her to stay – which she didn't – but the guards were posted to keep Isabela safe from the machinations of Magistrate Vanard and any of his potential attempts to extract whatever truth would suit him for the trial from the mouth of the pirate.

To threaten torture upon Isabela was too far. True, it was the city's right to use force to extract information and confessions, but the guardswoman never liked such methods. Short of a clear threat to Kirkwall, she didn't hurt her prisoners, not to that degree at least. A confession from torture may be false just as it may be true. People were willing to do many things to avoid pain.

It wasn't justice.

* * *

Andraste be damned if the enigmatic Champion was not pulling her hair out trying to find a way to free the pirate. Hawke's feelings were pretty much an open secret by now. Half of Kirkwall already knew and the other half surely suspected. Isabela was bound to face the consequences for stealing that relic someday, but the warrior never thought the pirate would be forced into this situation thanks to the Champion's feelings.

_Guilt_ – she hated it. Vanard found Isabela because of Hawke. He wanted to take away something important to her just as she took away his son. Now she knew why the magistrate always avoided her, and why he was always among the first to disagree with her actions. Aveline was the one who explained, but now she remembered. At the time, she believed she was doing the world a favor. Her companions were inclined to agree, but now, it did not seem to clear. Perhaps she should have just let the man live, if only that they would not end up in this situation.

Hawke paced back and forth in her lobby. Aveline sat in a chair close by, while doing her best to calm her fellow warrior down.

"Relax," said the guardswoman. "We'll take care of this."

"I can't relax." Frustrated, the Champion grabbed the first thing within reach and flung it into the fire. The inkpot shattered and the dark liquid crackled and popped on the red-hot log. "She's in there because of me. Because I'm an idiot who can't give up on her," she said.

Aveline wanted to comfort her friend. It was partially true; Isabela was arrested because of Hawke. "It was bound to happen someday. Vanard just happened to move first."

"Are you saying that someone was eventually bound to hurt her because of me?" The warrior frowned.

"No," replied the guard captain, "I'm saying that Isabela made many enemies."

"She knew how to avoid them." Hawke was arguing. Something inside insisted on blaming herself. Why? Isabela was hardly innocent.

"She couldn't run forever," countered Aveline.

"Even so, she could have run for longer." The Champion covered her eyes with her hands, as if not seeing would make this reality disappear.

Taking note of Hawke's slumped figure, Aveline sighed. "Stop blaming yourself, Hawke. It's done."

"I'm not sure what to do," replied the Champion. "The alternative is to storm the Keep."

The guard captain frowned at that comment. This was precisely why she stayed at the Amell Estate tonight. Hawke was bound to do something reckless. "That's not a good idea."

"I know, but sitting here is driving me mad!" The warrior kicked herself off from the wall she'd been leaning on. "Andraste's flames," she exclaimed. "I can't take this much longer."

Aveline calmed her friend. "The trial is tomorrow, and Vanard has no proof." She placed a hand on Hawke's shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Without a confession, Isabela will go free."

The Champion took the hand into her own. "Thank you," she said. Hawke smiled at her. Aveline was a true and loyal friend, a rare thing in the world.

The bells of the front door distracted both warriors from their conversation. A guard was outside, one of Aveline's men. He looked disturbed and rushed, and urgently whispered with his captain about what could only be an issue inside the barracks. The guard captain finished talking, and then approached the Champion. "I must go to the barracks. Stay here," she ordered.

"Did something happen to Isabela?" A sense of dread settled into the pit of Hawke's stomach. What could be so important for the guard to enter her home in the dead of the night?

A grimace appeared on Aveline's face. "Just stay here," she said again.

The warrior refused. "I'm going with you."

"Look, you can't do anything right now anyway." She placed both hands on Hawke's shoulders and gently pushed her into a chair. "Trust me." Her eyes pleaded with the Champion.

Hawke stiffened. Reluctantly, the Champion nodded her head. She watched the guard captain head off to the Keep, and then grabbed her own cloak.

_**Trust **_was a lot to ask.

* * *

Isabela was sleeping in her cell. It generally helped her deal with confinement in the little area. Closed spaces unsettled her. It wasn't so much of a fear as a slowly increasing feeling of restriction. She was a child of the untamable sea. To lose the sun and open sky would be like cutting off her legs. The pirate would rather die than suffer such a fate.

Coincidentally, she was now in this very cell, because of an unfortunate turn of events. The rogue was never one to look back and regret her actions, but right now, running off with that Qunari relic seemed to be the choice she should have made three years ago.

She did do her best to escape, or at least think of one. The largest current obstacle was the personal guard Aveline assigned to watch the her. Isabela appreciated the gesture, truly she did. However, it did make it significantly more difficult to break out. It was just her luck that the three guards posted would be absolutely loyal to their guard captain, and apparently immune to her seduction as well. Of all people, she got Donnic, Aveline's husband; Brennan, Aveline's pet and some nameless stick in the mud.

Loud footsteps and the clanking of keys woke her up. No one entered the Keep's jails at this hour of the night. Something was wrong. She called out to Donnic, but the guardsman did not respond. In the dim light, she could see that he was asleep. "Donnic! Shit," she cursed as two men barged into her cell.

They roughly grabbed her. Isabela kicked one, but the other managed to knock the wind out of her in response. Another struggled ensued. One grabbed her from behind. The pirate kicked the one approaching from the front. He stumbled back a bit, but recovered quickly. In two minutes time, the two thugs managed to tie the Rivaini woman up. Resisting at that point would be a waste of energy. Why did the guards have to take away her daggers?

Now that Isabela was finally restrained, a fat, well-dressed man entered the cell. He was not paid muscle like the ones who tied her up. The man glanced at the Rivaini and nodded his head in confirmation. Without blinking, he gestured for his hirelings to follow.

One man slung her over his shoulder, and the group traveled deep into the bowels of the Viscount's Keep. The pirate didn't know there was anything more than the jails. An ominous feeling grew in the pit of her stomach. This looked bad.

She panicked the moment chains came into view, and renewed her struggles. However, all movement ceased as one thug held a knife to her throat. She gulped in fear. "What do you want?" Clearly, the balding, pudgy man wanted more than her body.

A grimace crossed his face, as if speaking to the Rivaini was the most distasteful thing he'd ever have to do. "A confession," he tersely replied.

Isabela stared at him in disbelief, and then looked at the rack next to them. Admitting it now would certainly save her a lot of pain. She'd probably end up doing it eventually if placed on that thing. "Alright, I confess," she said without a hint of hesitation.

The portly man looked pleased. "Good, that was easy enough." He smiled at the pirate with a creepy sense of hope. "Now tell me how the Champion is involved."

"What?" The Rivaini wondered what was going through the man's mind. The thugs who held her did not look as surprised.

"_Tell us_ how the Champion had you steal the relic and fool the people of Kirkwall, how she planned to take over the city after the Qunari weakened our defenses, and how the guard captain and that apostate warden were sent here to aid her in Ferelden's plot to conquer Kirkwall." His face turned red from saying so many things in one breath, and a bead of sweat rolled down his face. The anger made his heart race.

That was it, Isabela decided. This man was stark raving mad. "Have you been drinking with that paranoid man in Lowtown?"

The fat man backhanded her across the face. "Do you think this is a joke? Name your conspirators or we'll force you."

Isabela considered it. If this meant escaping from imminent pain and potential death, she really should do it. The choice should've been simple. "What would happen to them?"

The man inhaled deeply to calm down. "They will be tried in the court of law."

That was fine, right? Hawke could get out of it if Isabela named her; she was the Champion. The Rivaini glanced around the dungeon. In the dim light, she could make out splotches of blood and scorch marks haphazardly spotted over the floors and the walls. Chains were hung from the ceiling, the walls and many of the horrific devices placed through the room. This was where they dragged all the traitors, spies and the occasional mass murderer. Her choice was clear.

"No," she said succinctly.

His face flared up in anger once more. "We will tie you to the rack if you don't name her now!"

She refused again.

He waved his hands to signal the two brutes next to her. One held the knife closer to her throat to ensure she wouldn't move. The other sliced the laces off her dress and stripped her into her small clothes. The pirate sucked in a breath of air in apprehension. They were going torture her on this wooden rack by stretching her limbs beyond their capacity. If she was lucky, she'd faint from the pain before they managed to pull off an arm, or a leg.

She _had_ to escape. The moment they tried to place her on the rack, Isabela struggled. Divine be damned if she was going to let them tie her to the thing without a fight. She managed to get in a good kick to the nose on the taller man, but after a few minutes, she was chained on the rack.

It started agonizingly slow as her torturers cracked the gears further and further until her body was tautly stretched over the wooden planks. One man walked off only to reappear with a torch. He prepared to light something below her. Isabela bit her lip in fear.

"Wait," ordered the leader. "We can't have her too badly scarred or dead for tomorrow's trial. Leave it." The man retracted, allowing the pirate a moment of relief. It was short-lived, however, when he pointed at something she could not see. "Heat up the poker instead."

The pain was agonizing. Her limbs screamed every time they turned the gears, but that was only the beginning. It didn't take long for the dreaded iron to heat up. It was glowing hot red when the shorter thug brought it into view. Isabela's eyes widened in fear.

"This will end if you name the mastermind," insisted her interrogator. He grabbed the steel rod and brought it dangerously close to her face.

The Rivaini felt the heat from the glowing hot poker radiate onto her skin. It was close enough to feel a slight burn. She dreaded the idea of the thing against her flesh, but she was determined. Her torturers would not win so easily. Defiantly, Isabela smiled. "Andraste's glorious tits told me to do it." She chuckled a little only to realize the movement amplified the pain.

The fat man growled at her blasphemy. "More," he ordered. With a sick smile, he slowly brought the rod down to Isabela's chest and seared her left nipple.

Her screams echoed through the halls. The Rivaini felt her skin boil, break and then tighten. The nauseating smell of burnt flesh rose to her nose. She squirmed as he pressed the metal harder against her chest. Her blackened skin stuck to the iron and tore off from her body as the sadistic man lifted it from her breast.

The taller thug looked at her with pity. "Such a shame, they were nice melons too."

The fat man ignored the comment. "Name her!" he shouted, before attacking her right breast.

The scorching pain traveled down her back through her spine as Isabela writhed uncontrollably. All the movements made the throbbing from her overstretched limbs worsen when her joints began to dislocate with sickening pops. She wanted to break. The rogue was prepared to do just about anything to make this agony stop.

She mumbled something under her breath. It was loud enough for the hateful man to pause in his torment.

"Say it louder," he ordered and leaned closer in hopes of hearing the Champion's name.

The pirate inhaled deeply and spit right into his eye.

The fat man roared in anger, as his two hirelings laughed. He slammed the hot poker down across Isabela's chest, right under her breasts. All the air was knocked out of her lungs as the impact broke her ribs. The Rivaini coughed up blood. Still, she smirked defiantly at her tormentors, as they continued to devastate her body.

Isabela would _never_ give up Hawke.

* * *

The guards rescued her after they found Donnic unconscious by the cell. He had been drugged. The would-be interrogators were arrested, and the Rivaini was transported back to her cell.

Aveline frowned when she saw the Champion waiting outside of Isabela's cell. "I told you to stay home."

Hawke furtively glanced at the guard captain in shame. "I had to be sure." She worried and was justified. Two guards carried the pirate's mangled body into view. Guilt overwhelmed her. None of this would've happened if it weren't for Hawke. She gingerly touched Isabela's arm, only to hear the woman groan in pain.

Then she saw the prisoners in tow, and her guilt turned to rage. Without thinking, the warrior punched the closest. The guards managed to restrain her from doing anything more. Hawke wanted to kill the arrested men, and torture them with everything horrible she could think of. She struggled against Aveline's hold, but Isabela's muffled cry snapped the Champion back from her anger. The warrior would take care of the men later.

Relaxed now, Aveline ordered, "Go home, Hawke." She motioned for her subordinates to move Isabela back into her cell, where Anders was quietly waiting.

"I can't," replied the warrior. Her eyes followed Isabela's body into the small room.

"You're not doing any good here."

"I'm not doing anything at home either," Hawke growled. She would stay here, even if the pirate didn't want her.

As Anders carefully examined Isabela's body, Hawke remained outside. The mage needed room to work properly. It wasn't as if the Champion could help anyway. She couldn't be near the pirate now anyway, both out of guilt and out of respect for the Rivaini's personal wishes. Isabela didn't want Hawke; at least that's how the warrior interpreted it. She wasn't sure if she could hold it together if she saw that voluptuous body limply lying there.

After what felt like an eternity, the former warden came out of the tiny room. "I've managed to patch her up alright." He grimaced as he mentally pictured the extent of Isabela's injuries. "There will be scars, but she will live." Both Aveline and Hawke sighed with relief. The damage was not as much as they feared. Danger over, the mage returned to his place in Darktown. Aveline went with a number of her guards back to the barracks, which left Hawke alone with Isabela.

The Champion entered the room and seated herself on the floor next to the unconscious pirate. She brushed back some stray hairs from the woman's face. "I'm sorry," she said. Isabela looked tired, as if she hadn't slept in a thousand years. Hawke sighed. She made a mental note to buy the Rivaini new laces for her dress. The pirate at least retained her small clothes – well – the small clothes she wore anyway. The Champion was grateful for that, though not any less angry. The mental image of those men hurting Isabela made her blood boil. They would pay; she swore it.

As the rogue lay sleeping, Hawke sat next to her and kept watch for the rest of the night.

* * *

The trial was the talk of the city. Every person and their mothers whispered about one of the Champion's companions. The day it came, the Viscount's courtroom was filled to capacity with curious onlookers.

Isabela was paraded in with a company of guards and in one of Hawke's formal dresses, as her own was currently unavailable. They led her to the middle of the room, where a steward presented the charges to the court. Vanard looked on from his seat in the front center. His fellow magistrates watched on. They had remained quiet with their own judgments so far. None of them wanted to take sides in this fight yet; at least, none was sure of who would win, and none had anything to gain from allying so early, but had much to lose. Plus, this was Vanard's case. He held the final judgment. They merely wished to observe.

The prosecutor introduced himself. "I am Larkin Sloane." This public spectacle was a great way to raise his status in the city. He allied himself with Vanard many a dozen years ago as a new man in Kirkwall's politics. The magistrate was generous with him, and a successful prosecution of someone so significant would undoubtedly improve his reputation.

After waiting for the crowd to calm a bit, he began. "Today, I will present to you evidence that will prove that this woman not only steals, but is directly responsible for the Qunari uprising three years ago that left thousands of our citizens dead." His words were mostly theatrics to turn the crowd against the defendant. Sloane had hoped for more when he sent a representative to obtain a confession. It seemed that things did not work out. The prosecutor was not particularly surprised. Few in the city would move against the Champion, so his pool of potential assets was limited. It figured that he chose someone less than capable.

"She is charged with theft for stealing a Qunari relic. She is charged with piracy because she did so in Kirkwall's waters. She is charged with inciting a rebellion because it was inevitable that those threats would attempt to conquer our beloved home and she is charged with treason for bringing down all this misery upon our city."

There was more to the speech, but Aveline stopped listening. The long-winded prosecutor was only used for high profile cases. He was a politician, through and through. His only problem was his family lacked the clout to make him anything more that what he already was, a lackey for Magistrate Vanard. The guard captain still managed to grasp the main points. Basically, the prosecutor intended to prove Isabela guilty, because she was.

"How do you answer these charges?" asked Vanard.

The pirate smiled for the audience. "Not guilty," she stated with the utmost confidence. Inside she was not nearly as serene as her façade. She was unsure how to act in this situation. Isabela had never been on trial before. Pirates don't typically have that luxury. Nor did she remain long enough in one place to be caught.

Unfazed by her response, the prosecutor moved forward with the proceedings. He had found a few willing to testify that they witnessed her take the relic, and a few more that were willing to say that they heard her admit to stealing it. It didn't really matter if it was true; the rumors around the city were more than enough to assure the commoners of the truth he presented. The final judgment lay with Vanard.

Yet there was a twist for their little play today. Sloane wanted to show off, so he did the most unexpected thing. He called Hawke up to be a witness. "Tell us Champion, did the pirate run off with the Qunari relic when you went to retrieve it." The prosecutor had heard the story before. It was part of the ongoing series a certain merchant dwarf was writing into a book.

Hawke glared at the man. How she hated him for putting her under the spotlight. At that moment, a thought entered her head. It was a risky move, but she did it anyway. "Not at all," she lied. "I sent Isabela off to get the relic back."

Everyone in the room gasped. They had not heard this version of the tale before. Sloane narrowed his eyes. This was an unwelcome change. He had not prepared anyone to testify to the fact that Isabela indeed had the relic in her hand before leaving the city. "I'd like to warn you against perjuring yourself, Champion. The punishments are severe."

The warrior smirked. "Do you have proof that I am lying, Serah Sloane?" She relished the look of dread that appeared on his face.

"I have multiple witnesses that state that the Qunari identified her as the thief," he claimed. Sloane was fairly certain he could find a few nobles who were present in the throne room during the duel that could confirm the statement.

The Champion shrugged her shoulders. "Case of mistaken identity," she said.

The prosecutor quickly thought of a way to combat this new turn of events. He did not expect Hawke to lie so easily. She never seemed the type. In moments, he had his answer. "Then I shall call forth the guard captain, Aveline, to confirm this story."

Aveline stepped forward to the witness stand. She mentally cursed Hawke for putting her in this position. She was the guard captain, thus responsible for upholding the law regardless of personal attachments. However, Hawke and Isabela were her friends. "Hawke speaks the truth," she tersely stated. The redheaded warrior mentally vowed to have her two friends make up for this transgression. Aveline _detested_ lying.

Now Sloane grimaced with disgust. It seemed that his anti-Ferelden associate was right. The Fereden's covered for each other. He had hoped that Aveline would at least possess some integrity, but his gamble proved to be wrong. The audience was turning against him. Now that Hawke testified that Isabela went to retrieve the relic, she had become a hero, and the people were more than willing to accept it. Most of them hoped the pirate was innocent in the first place, because they wanted to believe that the Champion and her companions were all good people.

His plan failed, so he let the two women return to their seats to watch the rest of the trial unfold. The few witnesses after were uninteresting, and he was unable to present even a shred of actual evidence. No one outside the heroic group of Hawke's companions knew the true nature of Isabela's involvement, so Sloane could not get anyone to counter Hawke and Aveline's testimony. Naturally, he knew that this would not change the ultimate outcome of the trial. While the audience had some power in influencing the verdict, Vanard made up his mind even before walking into the room.

They got to the end. The magistrate was displeased at how his prosecutor performed, and the nobles in the audience had grown bored. Finally, he passed along his judgment. "Guilty," he proclaimed.

The audience met him with a series of gasps, while Hawke sat aside and glared at him angrily. She had hoped that the audience's opinion could sway Vanard's decision, but it did not seem to work. The warrior knew this would happen, and made plans accordingly. Hawke was not about to let Isabela be executed because of some official's grudge against her.

The doors of the courtroom slammed open, which effectively snapped everyone's attention to the entrance. "Enough!" shouted Knight Commander Meredith. "The Rivaini goes free."

Vanard stood up indignantly. "Knight Commander, this is not your concern."

"I still hold the responsibilities of the Viscount, so I'm here to end this pathetic farce of a trial." The blonde woman fiercely stared down at the magistrate. "We all know that all this is for your personal vendetta against the Champion. Such corruption is unacceptable. I expect a formal letter of resignation by tomorrow." Her tranquil assistant took note of the order.

The magistrate turned to see a small smile of victory on the Champion's face. His lips formed a frown as Vanard realized he had lost this battle. Finally, he returned his gaze at the Knight Commander. "You usurped the position of Viscount to run this city under your thumb. Don't think the people of Kirkwall will stand for this forever," he said before angrily storming out of the room soon after.

With the magistrate's departure, everyone else also left. The drama was over; Isabela walked free. Hawke insisted on a celebration at her estate, and promised good alcohol as a reward for attending. Her companions were never ones to turn down good ale. However, she remained behind for a few moments.

"Thank you, Knight Commander." The Champion bowed to Meredith in gratitude. She was glad that her letter reached the templar in time.

The blonde templar looked away with an impassive expression. "A favor for a favor, that is all," she replied.

* * *

"The Knight Commander really does have a flare for the dramatic," laughed Varric, "bursting in the last moment like that." His listeners agreed as they all clinked their glasses together in cheers.

"You should've seen the look on that prosecutor's face when Aveline said that Isabela was sent to retrieve the relic." Hawke poured herself another cup of brandy. She may be poking fun at the guard captain now, but she was immensely grateful that the woman lied for her. It couldn't have been easy on Aveline.

The guardswoman frowned at Hawke. "Don't ever expect me to do that again," she said with a stern voice, which effectively silenced all the laughter in the room. Suddenly, she burst out laughing. "But that expression of his was classic," she said. "I didn't think he could turn his mouth like that." The cheer returned, and they all drank another gulp in celebration.

The night wound down, and everyone returned to their respective homes. Isabela was the only one left. Varric promised to walk a very drunk Merrill home. Anders, Aveline and Sebastian excused themselves quietly. Fenris nonchAriktly waltzed out the door with a wave goodbye.

Hawke stood in front of the pirate to stop her from taking off as well. "Stay here tonight," she ordered.

Isabela groaned. She really just wanted to sleep. "Look, Hawke, I know you feel bad, but I'm not interested in guilt sex right now." The rogue unconsciously touched her chest as she recalled the night before. Would there be nightmares?

"That's not it!" Hawke replied indignantly. "You think I didn't notice how you keep rubbing your shoulders? You haven't recovered from…" She didn't want to say it.

"Balls," said the pirate. She didn't want to think about it. As far as Isabela was concerned, what happened was in the past; lingering on it would only bring pain. "I'm fine. Anders took care of it. You can't even see the scars." Isabela showed off a bit of her cleavage to prove to the warrior that she was unharmed.

"You're in no condition to be walking Lowtown at this time of night." Hawke hated that feeling of utter helplessness as she waited outside the cell while Anders did his work. She would never let it happen again. "Maker knows if there are other assassins after you. Vanard might try something stupid after today."

"I can take care of myself," quipped the pirate.

"Like last night?"

"That doesn't count," shouted Isabela. She had been unarmed and trapped in face of two rather large men.

"Why didn't you just name me?" asked Hawke. It could've been simple. The warrior would've found a way around somehow. All Isabela had to do was say her name, but the Rivaini had to do something so _selfless. _It made Hawke angry. Instead of having to fight off a slightly annoying charge of treason, the Champion was trapped with this gnawing feeling of _hope _in whatever they shared, and that was far more painful.

Isabela shrugged nonchalantly. "I didn't think I needed to," she lied. For now, the pirate was able to hide behind an impassive façade. It was her only defense. If only Hawke would drop the topic. It shouldn't matter to the Champion what Isabela did. Things always got too complicated.

"Bullshit!" Hawke kicked out the leg of one of her tables. "Tell me the truth," she demanded, "Do you have feelings for me?" All this time she spent wavering over her decision about marriage was wasted with some ridiculous fancy that she kept hidden in the depths of her heart. She had to know.

Isabela was surprised by the sudden violence, but she managed to keep her voice even. "Does it matter?"

It was not the answer Hawke was looking for. "It does to me."

"Nothing will come of it."

"Why do you say that?" Desperation laced her voice.

"Because it's true," answered the rogue.

"Damn it, Isabela," shouted the Champion, "Do you love me or not?"

The pirate stiffened. Though she wanted to close her eyes, Isabela forced herself to look directly at Hawke. "No," she coldly replied, but her heart screamed in protest. The selfish part of her wanted to say yes; it wanted to take Hawke there and show her how she felt. Yet the part of her that cared for the warrior stopped her. Love was more than just sex. This was for the best.

Hawke's heart sunk. She backed away from the Rivaini and leaned her head against the wall. Even as she prepared herself for this answer, nothing could have spared her this wrenching rip in her heart. "Then why do you stay here? Why haven't you left?"

Isabela looked away. She couldn't stand to see that heartbroken expression on the woman's face. "I need you." She bit her lip to harden herself enough to say the rest. "Castillon will come after me soon, and I'll need your help to deal with him."

A bitter laugh escaped Hawke's mouth. "So you're staying to use me."

"Yes," answered the Rivaini.

"I see." The anger left her, only a feeling of hollowness remained. The last bit of wishful hope was banished from her mind as the Champion hid her despair behind a mask of indifference. It was just as well. The warrior didn't want to drag Isabela deeper into the abyss; Hawke had to face it alone. She looked at the pirate once more, and made her decision. "Alright, Isabela," she said. They were still friends, at least for now. "Stay here tonight, and I promise I'll give up on you… _forever_." A trade was offered. A favor for a favor, the currency was one that all pirates and mercenaries knew well.

Isabela hesitantly looked at Hawke. A part of her hurt at the thought that the Champion would let her go, but there was nothing she could do about it. This was how things were meant to be. "Fine," she agreed, "one night."

* * *

_Bonus content_

A fat man in a fancy suit traveled home in the dead of the night from his usual meeting place in Hightown. Arik Geadais was glad he was out of the Keep's jail cells. A week in that putrid hole at the mercy of a _Ferelden _guard captain was more than enough for a lifetime. He resented the people from that backwater country. They ran to Kirkwall in hordes to escape the blight, and sucked away all his city's best resources. Then that warrior fooled the people into making her the Champion. It was all a conspiracy, and he and his associates would prove it.

This time was lucky. Arik had one or two powerful friends that forced Captain Vallen to free him after a short amount of time. Now, he would seize the opportunity to do more on the outside. Surely, the Ferelden influence couldn't pervade the most loyal of Kirkwall's citizens.

A shadow around the corner caught his eye. Strange, it did not look like a cat. The man slowly peaked around the obscure corner to see nothing. Walking into the alley, he confirmed that there was indeed nothing there. Perhaps it was his imagination.

He was about to turn back when a knife slid around his neck and held directly in front of his throat.

"Name your conspirators," said the frighteningly familiar voice. "I'd say that, but I already know who they are."

Arik was about to protest, but his voice was nothing more than gurgles of blood as the dagger cleanly sliced across his throat.

Isabela wiped the blood off her blade with his clothes. She had taken care of the other two henchmen days ago. Looking at the dying man one last time, she said, "Never forget that **I'm** the villain," _not Hawke_.

* * *

_Please Review_


	9. Running

_I'll go mad if I try to tweak this anymore. Also, give a shout out to Leogrl19, whose input helped put this chapter together._

_Edit: It seems ff.(net) screwed up my scene breaks, so if it feels like it jumps in a random spot, it's cuz I didn't catch it in a read through to replace them._

* * *

Chapter 9: Running

Since that night, Hawke felt numb. Of all the reactions she thought she would have, 'nothing' was not one of them. It was as if she'd been stabbed a hundred times and could no longer tell one wound from the next. So she did what seemed most logical to fill the gap.

Hawke fucked a whore.

She felt the woman before her rock to the rhythm of her fingers. A cry of pain grabbed her attention. The Champion tasted blood. She immediately apologized.

Hawke was **frustrated**.

This new feeling, this _emptiness, _was in many ways worse than the heartache she had become accustomed to, but it did force the warrior to step back and rationally evaluate her situation.

They still got along fair enough. After that night, Isabela still greeted her with her usual flirtatious smile. She even proposed a round of sex to put things right again.

_Typical_

Hawke firmly turned down the offer. The pirate shrugged it off with a mysterious expression that almost seemed like disappointment. In the end, the warrior made her decision. She would pretend that nothing had happened between them and act as if everything was the way it used to be, even if it killed her.

She finished with the woman and tossed her a few extra silvers as compensation for biting. Without delay, Hawke dressed and walked out without looking back. Her time was done, and the next customer lined up at the door. At times, the Champion felt a bit of pity for the prostitutes who served here, but then there were other times when she didn't care. People had to survive somehow, and sometimes the good jobs were taken.

Hawke arrived home late. She quietly shut the door to avoid waking anyone. Her mabari was sprawled out by the fireplace and lazily glanced up at her when she entered. It yawned, and then returned to sleep.

The Champion was not tired yet. Instead, she entered the library in search of a few books. Varric had just finished another volume for his series about a crazy nobleman and his ridiculous antics in the royal court.

Yet before Hawke managed to enter her library, she found Isabela sleeping in her largest reading chair before the fireplace, just under that creepy statue that followed people with its eyes. "Isabela?" The Rivaini didn't stir. The warrior was surprised. What could the woman possibly be doing in her home and in such an awkwardly vulnerable state? The Champion had seen Isabela sleep back when she lived with Gamlen. Of course, the rogue was always vaguely alert, and allowed Hawke to sleep over out of pity. But after moving into the estate, Isabela never stayed. Yet there she was now, sleeping deeply in the study.

To say that the Champion wasn't tempted to wake the rogue and kick her out would be a lie. But she didn't. Besides, Isabela looked like she needed the rest. Without another word, Hawke walked off and returned with a blanket. After draping the cloth over the rogue, the warrior returned to her own room for the night.

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Isabela was surprised by the blanket when she woke the next morning. If it was Hawke, then she said nothing. So Isabela too, did not mention it.

That day, the companions found themselves traveling to the Bone Pit at Hawke's personal request. Her investment always seemed to come across trouble. It was amazing the Champion bothered with it at all, but she implied that the benefits gained from the mine outweighed its costs. So when the letter from her business partner arrived, the warrior wasted no time to call together her companions to visit the forsaken wasteland.

"You always take me to the nicest places," Isabela sarcastically remarked when they finally arrived.

Varric laughed. "You know her," he said, "the diehard romantic."

"How is this nice? It's so scary and dead. Oh wait," said the elven mage as she tilted her head in delayed comprehension. "You're being sarcastic." A shy smile appeared on her face.

"She does seem to enjoy leading us into danger," quipped Fenris. He smirked, letting everyone know that it was a joke. The elf seemed to be telling more these days.

"Don't forget about the ingredient," said Anders. As opposed to the former slave, he was growing more serious, morbid even. Sometimes Isabela wondered if he planned to kill himself. Sadly, it seemed as if death would be a source of relief for the mage. The spirit of vengeance was clearly a burden, even if he wouldn't admit it.

Finally, the group arrived at the mining camp, what was left of it at least. Everything was charred black. Some of the equipment still burned. They'd seen such destruction before. Everyone was – unfortunately – too experienced. So once they found the burnt, half-eaten bodies, only one word came to mind, "dragons".

Isabela wanted to leave right then. There was little point in picking through what meager belongings that the dead men had, especially if there were scaled beasts roaming around. Besides, the only things of real value were in scattered piles of ash, but that damned mage wanted his ingredient. Whatever happened to that fun loving escape artist? She missed that Anders a lot. At least Hawke actually looked like she was reconsidering their original plan to explore.

Things only got worse. A high dragon with a dozen dragonlings ambushed them. The rogue nimbly jumped out of the way as the dragon babies rapidly barreled through the middle of the group. Isabela and Merrill were sectioned off by the creatures, while their companions engaged the hoard's mother. There was no way any one of them could kill the thing right off. They had to wear the monster down. It was a shame that Aveline wasn't there. She would have been the classic valiant knight fighting for glory, an image befitting her namesake.

Isabela expertly dodged the attacks, while trying to keep the snapping mouths distracted from the Dalish woman's chanting. Even so, she found herself anxiously glancing over at the Champion, who was desperately running around to avoid direct physical attacks from the high dragon. Though loathed to admit it, the rogue worried about the warrior.

Then Hawke was swallowed in a stream of the high dragon's flames. Isabela's heart skipped a beat. Distracted, she missed a dragon's tail sweep in her direction. She was painfully knocked over.

"Isabela," called the Champion in the distance. The woman was alive, though her shield was glowing red from heat. The rogue could see the warrior wince in pain as she gripped the scorching hot metal. The high dragon saw Hawke's distraction and seized its opportunity to eat the Champion, only to snap its jaw on the molten shield in her place.

Isabela continued to battle the last two dragonlings that waddled her way. When the last one fell, she wasted no time in attacking the high dragon. However, before she reached the monster, Hawke was hit by one massive sweep of its forearm. With no shield as extra protection against the blow, she was slammed into a cliff.

Before the dragon could attack again, Isabela dove under its belly and buried her dagger to the hilt before slicing open its flesh with everything she had. Her action was rewarded with a loud roar of pain from the beast. She was relieved, because the creature recoiled and turned its attention to the rogue. Hawke was safe, for now.

Moments later, while Isabela was haphazardly running from the giant dragon chasing her, Hawke got up. The pirate felt relieved, but then the dragon seemed to notice. Fear gripped her heart. She tried attacking the beast again, but the monster would not be deterred. It had found an easy target and ignored everyone else.

Hawke looked dazed. She didn't appear to see the dragon approaching or bending its neck in preparation for another large breath of fire. So Isabela acted first. In the blink of an eye, she managed to run up to Hawke and tackle the warrior to the ground before the dragon launched its attack. Heated air rushed past her back. Their nostrils were assaulted by the smell of something burning. The rogue prayed it wasn't either of them.

"Isabela!" Hawke desperately inspected the rogue's face to see if she was hurt.

The Rivaini looked up, so their eyes made contact briefly. There was something there in that moment of concern that she couldn't quite define. "I'm fine," replied the pirate. Her hair was a bit singed, but otherwise unharmed. She quickly rolled off the Champion. Isabela really wanted to say more, but the threat of an oversized forepaw squishing them took priority.

"Thanks," muttered the warrior before they hurriedly returned to the battle.

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Isabela gladly felt the extra sovereigns in her purse clink. It was money well earned. They stripped that dragon clean once all was done. Blacksmiths clamored at the opportunity to work with dragon bone and scales, and the alchemists reveled in the copious amounts of high dragon blood. In the end, Hawke split the profits evenly among those who fought.

The pirate happily drank her problems away in the Hanged Man. It wasn't that the swill here was better, but she was comfortable; the familiarity was another shield from her memories. Then there was Hawke. They got along well enough, and the Champion never brought up her feelings again, which should've made Isabela happy, but she wasn't, and the atmosphere between them felt so _strange_. More disturbing was her own behavior. Isabela _saved_ Hawke at her own peril. She _**never**_ risked her life for anyone else.

The rogue wished things could go back to the way they were before, back when she didn't care. Isabela used to revel in the simple pleasures: sex, sailing, and booty. She enjoyed those things that were superficial, because they were easy. There was no need to dwell on the complicated. Yet as she spent more time in Kirkwall, her simple black and white worlds began to bleed into each other. Things were no longer defined with a clear line that weighed on the benefits and costs of all things relative to herself. A selfish view on life was no longer enough. Somehow, something in her had changed, and Isabela _hated_ it.

Being around Hawke changed her. The Champion made her want to be a better person, and as she continued to adventure around the city, the more she resented this secret wish. For the first time, the simple pleasures weren't enough. Sex was unsatisfying; ale no longer quenched her thirst, and money could no longer fill the growing void in her heart.

She was _slipping_.

Everything that defined her was slowly losing its meaning. For the first time in years, she wasn't sure who she was and who she wanted to be.

It was **pathetic**.

The pirate always knew what she wanted and pursued it. Isabela despised this other woman she saw in reflections.

She rubbed the golden snake tattooed to her forearm. It was a 'gift' from her husband. The old bastard thought slapping the picture onto her arm was important. He wanted to show off his own status when flaunting her to random friends and acquaintances. Staring at the intricate serpent reminded her of her forced servitude. She was no longer the same woman who reveled in her husband's untimely death. This new, insecure self scared her.

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Castillon was gone, though Isabela wasn't exactly happy with his demise. He was about to agree to her demands, until Fenris threw a sword into his face. That damned elf and his hatred of slavers cost her a ship. She was just about ready to punch him when Hawke intervened. The Champion seemed to wear a subtle expression of satisfaction at seeing the former slaver's brains splattered on the floor.

The rogue did the only thing she could. She stormed off to the Hanged Man, drank and started a minor brawl. The guards were quick to respond by locking her up in the Viscount's Keep for the rest of the night. The lonely night spent in the jail cell forced Isabela to think about her situation of being ship-less, and lost.

She didn't blame Hawke, not exactly. The Champion was the reason she wanted to leave, but also the reason she wanted to stay. And she understood why Fenris killed Castillon. After seven years of brooding on about the horrors of slavery, it was impossible not to understand. This left Isabela in the uncomfortable state of being unable to blame anyone in particular for her current predicament. The only thing worse, was the splitting headache from the lack of more alcohol.

In the morning, the guards released all the drunks they took in from the previous night. Everyone was fined twenty coppers and then promptly pushed out of the Viscount Keep.

By evening, she found herself back at the Hanged Man. She was idly spinning a coin on the wooden table when Hawke decided to stroll in with her usual scowl. Isabela gestured for the Champion to sit at the table and asked, "Now what's got your knickers in a knot?" The interaction between them was almost surreal. Since the night after the trial, Hawke had adopted a façade of indifference. The warrior acted less angry than Isabela expected. She was almost pleasant in a way; it was unnerving.

The Champion unceremoniously slammed her forehead onto the table and sighed deeply. "Anders had me running through the sewer for miles in search of his fucking ingredient."

"That does explain the smell," Isabela laughed. And here she thought the Champion was sporting a new posh perfume.

Hawke groaned. "I don't understand why he couldn't do it by himself."

"He trusts you." Everyone trusted Hawke. Hell, even Isabela trusted Hawke.

"Good to know I'm appreciated," said the Champion sarcastically.

The pirate watched Hawke lean back. Frustration was written on her face. "It's not so bad," said the rogue. "Think of all the ways you can have him return the favor."

The warrior raised her eyebrow. "Oh?"

"His magic isn't just good for sealing wounds and destroying darkspawn you know." Isabela suggestively smiled. "You can finally tell me if his eyes glow blue when he –"

"Must you make everything about sex?" Hawke interrupted with a noticeably disgusted look.

The Rivaini laughed. "Of course," she said. "It's what I do."

The Champion shook her head and chuckled. "You can do more than that."

"I once did seven at the same time," responded the pirate. _An orgy_! It was perfect for lifting her spirits. The Rivaini couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it earlier.

"Spare me the details," cried Hawke. "I am not having sex with Anders."

"Too bad," Isabela lamented. "He won't have sex with me." Suddenly, she felt disappointed, not for the lack of sex, but the reason for it.

Hawke seemed to notice the subtle change in the Rivaini's expression. "What's wrong," she asked out of concern. They were talking about a topic that Isabela had always loved before.

"I," started Isabela. She wasn't quite sure what to say, but after Castillon, things felt different. "I was lying you know? I do care…" she confessed, "about you, that is."

Hawke sighed. The jovial mask faded. "I know." There was a look of resignation on her face. "You said exactly what I needed to hear." She turned away from Isabela and focused her gaze on the wall. "I was emotional after the trial, but I've thought about it, and you're right. It's best for the both of us." The warrior seemed like she was trying to convince herself more than the pirate.

Hawke's admission hurt, even though this was exactly what Isabela wanted, or at least, what she was supposed to want. But she recovered, because the pirate was a resilient woman, who would not be held down by a fanciful desire. "Well then, let me know when you're ready to have sex again, because that part I miss."

The Champion laughed, just as Isabela intended. She meant it too. Hawke was good, maybe not the best, not quite at the level of higher end brothel girls, but she was special, and the Rivaini knew it. "Perhaps," said the warrior. Her smile hid a thoughtful gaze. Then the laughter died, and Hawke took a sip of her ale. "What do you intend to do now?" Her expression was calm, but there was a slight edge in her voice that was almost desperate.

Isabela leaned forward, allowing her chin to rest on her hands. It was a good question. "I'm not sure. I've got no ship." She mentally stabbed the lyrium-addled elf for that detail. "I suppose I will hop on a barge and go from there."

A brief flash of dejection crossed the warrior's face. "You could stay."

"I'm a pirate, Hawke," said Isabela. "Staying on land this long is bad for my health. Besides," she shrugged, "this city feels like it'll explode at any moment. I would much prefer to be far away from that."

"I'll miss you," said the Champion. The sincerity in her voice made Isabela's heart twist a little.

"Don't look so sad. You look like Merrill," the rogue jested to hide her regret. "I promise to write."

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Isabela tossed in her bed. This wasn't working. She stared up at the ceiling. Every time the pirate tried to close her eyes, she saw that fat prick carrying that red-hot, iron rod. And every time, she shot up from her bed, and clasp a hand protectively over her chest.

_Damn it. _

She wasn't weak. He was dead. All three men from that night died by her hand. The Rivaini didn't need to be afraid. She _shouldn't_ feel afraid, yet it haunted her anyway. So Isabela got up, and decided to go for a walk to clear her head.

The pirate found herself outside the Amell estate. It figured that she'd end up here again. Since then, Hawke's place was the only place she could sleep. It was the only place she could let her guard down at all. As much as the rogue hated the attachment, she had little choice, not if she ever wanted to get any rest at all. Quietly, Isabela unlocked the door with a key she secretly copied years ago. The Mabari looked up at her as she entered, but did not bark. He knew her. She came by often enough at night that he was unsurprised, so he returned to sleep.

The pirate surveyed the dark room. The fires had long since died out, and the air was even a little chilly, but she didn't feel very cold here. She walked into the study and situated herself in the most comfortable chair. In the morning, she would leave before the sun rose, but tonight she would rest in the safest place in Kirkwall.

The next day, Isabela was busy making plans for leaving. It was long overdue. She mentally pictured the map of which destinations she wished to go and how to get to them. The Rivaini was busy writing a list of what to do, who to talk to and what to take. Yet the whole time, she couldn't help but think about Hawke, and how much she did not want to leave the woman behind. If only the world worked the way she wanted.

Then a sultry voice interrupted her work. "That paper may just catch on fire under that gaze of yours." A pretty woman walked towards Isabela. She had a gentle sway in her hips and a vaguely familiar tattoo lining the right side of her face. Sharp eyes looked directly down at the pirate.

Isabela immediately dropped her pen and smirked as she casually studied the woman before her. There was a dangerous allure in the woman's tone. The rogue liked that, the hint of danger often meant a lot of excitement to be had. "It'd be spared if I had a nice naked body to stare at instead." Though she was wary, Isabela was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. A pretty lass wanted to sleep with her. What good pirate would pass that up? It was the perfect diversion. She licked her lips in a way that revealed exactly what she was thinking. The only thing that mattered was that the woman looked like she wanted sex, and Isabela wanted fulfill that need.

The lady giggled and moved her face very close to the pirate's. "That can be arranged," she whispered hungrily. Isabela wasted no time in leading the pretty woman up to her room. Sex was easy for her. It was second nature, so when the opportunity presented itself, she didn't turn it down.

The door closed behind her and she excitedly turned to her guest. Locking eyes for a moment, she attempted to lean in for a fiery kiss. What she discovered was a hateful glint in those grey eyes, and then she couldn't move. Isabela struggled against the invisible hold on her body, but her limbs wouldn't obey.

_Blood magic _

"I heard rumors that you were a whore, but this was too easy," Grace sneered. "Now the Champion will have to come to us."

Fear rose in her chest, as her eyes closed of their own accord. Bustling feet entered the room, and the woman maniacally laughed in glee. Finally, as if a switch was flipped, the pirate blacked out with only one word on her mind.

_Hawke_

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She woke to the sounds of battle. The sand beneath her was slightly warm, and the sun was on her skin. The salty smell of the sea was in the air. Isabela knew she was somewhere on the beach. She heard many shouts and a few dying screams. Hawke was there, as was the rest of her companions.

The fight went on for what felt like an eternity. The pirate strained to sort out the voices and desperately hoped that none of her friends were among the fallen. Dalish chanting, Tevinter cursing, and Lady man chin's battle cry, as long as she could hear them, they were still alive.

Then came silence. Anxiety built in her chest. She couldn't see or move. All she could do was hope for the best, and that her friends won. In a moment, she heard a young mage speak.

"This was done with blood magic, so only blood magic can free her."

A moment later, the invisible bonds released their hold. Isabela slowly got up. Everything she saw spun at first, but quickly fell into place. The Champion stood in front of her. She was covered in blood, but otherwise looked fine. Relief washed over her.

_Hawke was all right. _

The rogue had to suppress the urge to grab and kiss the Champion right there. It was hard; Isabela _never _held back. For a brief moment, a gentle smile formed on her face. But the moment passed, and Isabela quickly corrected her expression to her typical smirk. "I'd thank you now, but I think we can make better arrangements later," she joked. It earned her a sigh from the warrior.

If there was one thing that the pirate learned from this incident, it was that she really needed to get out of Kirkwall. Being known as "The Champion's Lover" had turned out to be more dangerous than she liked. She found a ship willing to transport her to Llomoyren. Now that Castillon was gone, she could freely talk to her old friends again, not that she really considered any of them true friends by conventional terms. But damn her pathetic heart, because she just had to visit Hawke once last night.

Hawke wasn't home when Isabela got there, so she wandered around the living room and noticed the carving on the banister. The pirate was particularly proud of that little piece of art. The rogue brushed her fingers over the wood to memorize just how perfect the picture was shaped. It amazed her that Hawke didn't have the entire rail torn down to get rid of it.

Then the front door opened, and a Mabari immediately ran up to Isabela to beg for a snack. The pirate laughed and tossed some jerky to the ground, much to the Champion's displeasure.

"Are you the reason he's gotten fat?" There was an accusing glare on Hawke's face, but it wasn't very serious.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." The rogue did her best to show an overly innocent, yet obviously guilty smile.

The warrior shook her head with a chuckle. "So," she said, "Don't tell me you have yet another harebrained plan to get a ship."

"Not yet," answered the Rivaini. She wasn't joking or smiling anymore.

Hawke stared at her with curiosity. "Then…"

"I'm leaving, Hawke," said Isabela, "The ship departs tomorrow."

The Champion's expression became unreadable. "I see." Isabela could tell that Hawke was trying to hide her feelings. She was doing a horrible job. "You're here to say goodbye?"

"Yes," answered the Rivaini. "And I…" she started, and immediately regretted doing so. Isabela wasn't quite sure what she wanted to say, so blurted out anything she could think of. "I wonder if you were up for one last round of sex."

The warrior looked insulted. "No," she said flatly.

"A kiss then," Isabela rashly offered. What _was _she doing? Why was she stalling? As the questions crossed her mind, the pirate couldn't help but seductively saunter up to Hawke and lean in a little too close.

Hawke hesitated. She debated if it was a good idea, but she gave in to her desire. One last kiss couldn't hurt, so she leaned in.

_One_

It was too short, a mere brush of the lips.

_Two_

One more than Hawke expected, but it was longer and more satisfying.

_Three_

Neither of them were finished with just two.

_Four_

They had no intention of stopping anymore.

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Hawke found herself sitting on her bed while watching Isabela get dressed. The rogue slowly laced up the front of her bodice, which the Champion took pleasure in untangling the night before. It was times like these when she wished Isabela loved –

_No, she shouldn't think about it._

"You're really leaving now?" The Champion stared at the dwindling embers of the fireplace to avoid eye contact. She wasn't sure she could keep her composure.

"Yes," answered Isabela. "The ship leaves port at dawn."

"I'll miss you." Hawke wondered where the pirate would go. Would she ever visit?

"So you've said," replied the rogue. She tied on her blue bandanna.

"I mean it." The warrior forced herself to look at the Rivaini finish dressing. It was time for her to go.

"I know." Isabela looked down, and took note of the sadness in the Champion's eyes. She could never fathom why Hawke cared so much, but it touched her. Without thinking she said, "Come with me."

Hawke's head shot up to face the pirate and her jaw fell open in surprise. "What?"

Deed done, the rogue saw no reason to hold back anymore. "You heard me," said Isabela assertively. "Come with me."

The Champion was incredibly tempted. The pirate was making her resolution very difficult. She desperately wanted to accept, but there was one issue she couldn't ignore. She stopped herself from saying yes. "I can't."

"Why not?" Isabela felt almost indignant at the rejection.

"You _know _why," Hawke accused. "I love you!" These feelings were such a burden. It was a wonder how she managed to live with them for so long.

Isabela's expression faltered. Something flickered in her eyes as she carefully weighed her next words. "What if–" She hesitated as she glanced at Hawke's enquiring gaze. "What if I told you I felt the same?" It was so rushed, the rogue wasn't even sure she said it correctly, but she was surprised that she didn't regret it. The prospect of leaving, constant denial for months, and the need to face the truth all built to this point. Isabela didn't want to run anymore. Was wanting it all that bad?

Hawke said nothing, and her face revealed nothing. She was wearing that irritating mask of indifference again.

"Look," continued the Rivaini, "I care about you, more than I should." She nervously glanced at the Champion in search of a response. "I'm tired of running from feelings. I want to give this a chance." Hawke said nothing, so she pushed further. "This city will collapse with or without you. What could you lose?" claimed the pirate. A pointed look from her friend was all her answer, but something in Isabela refused to give up. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she said, "Hawke, you're miserable here. Everyone can see it. Just come with me. We can have another grand adventure, just like old times."

Hawke felt angry, elated, and relieved all at once, yet … "I can't. I don't want to be hurt again."

"Well," said the pirate as she looked away to hide how hurt she felt. "That's it then." Taking a deep breath, Isabela recomposed herself. Nothing involving feelings had ever led to a good ending before; she shouldn't have expected anything different this time. Resigned with the Champion's answer, she turned to leave. "Goodbye, Hawke."

At that moment, Hawke knew she made a mistake. The image of the pirate's back retreating towards the door was painfully familiar. Last time, the Rivaini didn't come back for three years. What did Isabela tell Aveline all those years ago?_ Risk or else._ "Screw it!" She jumped up and pulled the pirate into a forceful kiss. It was angry, but full of desire. "I can't believe I'm doing this." She shoved the rogue onto the bed, and straddled her waist to prevent the woman from escaping.

Isabela was taken by surprise, and though she was happy, she was also uncertain. Anything about Hawke and the emotions she invoked always made the pirate nervous. "Does this mean …?"

"I'll go with you." It occurred to Hawke that she was doing something absolutely idiotic, and that Isabela may leave her again, so she made another decision. She would go with her heart to wherever it took her. Satisfied with her new resolution, the Champion said, "Give me two weeks." There was one last thing in this city she wanted to do.

* * *

_I originally wanted to use this scene, but forgot about it until after I posted ch. 7._

_Outtakes Chapter 7_

"Rivaini," Varric enthusiastically greeted as he watched Isabela saunter into the bar. "Where have you been? You missed out on an excellent game."

Isabela smiled back as she slid into the seat across from him. "I was enjoying some of the finer entertainment in the red lantern district. There is an elf there that does this amazing thing with his tongue."

The dwarf chuckled. "Rivaini, you are insatiable."

"Well, I'd be satisfied if you'd let me have Bianca for a night."

"Now, you know I don't share." Varric stroked the crossbow lovingly. "Bianca's a one dwarf bow."

"I'm sure I can change her mind," the pirate purred.

Varric shook his head and laughed some more. "She'd never leave me like that." He snapped his mouth shut. It was a poor choice of words. Isabela's faltering smile was evidence enough. Then he thought about it. Varric hated talking serious, but this was for Hawke. She helped him with Bartrand; he would at least try with this. "You know she is head over heels in love with you right?"

Isabela stared at her ale. She did not frown, and did not smile. "She should've moved on three years ago."

"You know Hawke; she's stubborn." Perhaps it was a trait all Fereldens possessed.

"That's **so** boring," lamented the Rivaini.

He shrugged. "Most would find it romantic. You know you secretly love it." He flashed her that superior smirk she enjoyed using herself.

"No," she said, "It drives me crazy. She won't even have sex with me."

The dwarf scoffed. "Now, we both know that's never stopped you before."

"On the contrary," Isabela stated, "there are some people I prefer not to cross. Hawke is one of them."

"You know she wouldn't hurt you."

A bitter smile appeared. "If only she'd punch me or something. Everything would be solved."

* * *

_E/N: There are so many things I want to say, but I'll save it for review replies or other message, which means you need either to log in, or email me if you want a response._

_ALSO! I posted up a pretty picture on my deviantart account. Links are on my bio. Please click it; I'd love to read what you think._

_Reviews would be appreciated._


	10. Change

_I do apologize for this yearlong delay. This chapter was particularly difficult to write. I've probably tried to start at least a hundred times, and have maybe up to twenty versions of a particular scene. Don't worry. I already have the epilogue finished, and you'll get it next week or so. _

_This chapter does involve the Mark of the Assassin DLC quite heavily. I don't explain it, so you need to be semi-familiar with it. _

* * *

**Chapter 10: Change**

It was always about the sex. For the most part, this was how Isabela managed to move from one love to another without having to think too much about the other things. Now she was in a _relationship_, and did not have the slightest clue on how to act. She didn't want to lose Hawke – not after the hell they went through – but what were they supposed to do now?

In a sense, they were waiting. Hawke asked for two weeks. Isabela agreed to it. Still, they couldn't wait forever. At one point in time, they had to face reality.

This was more than _just sex_.

Neither of them really knew how to deal with it. Hawke wasn't just fucking another whore. Isabela wasn't merely satisfying her lust.

_What_ _changed_?

* * *

Hawke was waiting at the foyer of the Blooming Rose. She awkwardly smiled at a few workers as they waived to her. To be fair, Isabela was the one who wanted to come, though not for the sex. They didn't have the time, but the Rivaini did tease the warrior about it.

The pirate was up at the bar and chatting with the bartender. He handed her a large frame wrapped in cloth in exchange for a handful of coppers.

Hawke looked at the item with curiosity as the rogue approached. "What is it?"

"The big girl's birthday present," the pirate proudly proclaimed with a smile.

The Champion stared at her incredulously. "That is not some innocent portrait is it?" She thought back to the previous years. "All your past gifts were phallic tubers." And _why _did she get it from a brothel?

"Not true," countered the Rivaini. "I gave her… Donnic."

"He isn't exactly a thing to give away." Hawke dryly replied. "And if I recall correctly, I did most of the work on that."

"Details," she casually replied and waived off the Champion in a way that made the woman shake her head in poorly hidden amusement. "Come on," the pirate excitedly said, "we're late."

They made it to the small party in the guard captain's home. It was located somewhat in the middle between Hightown and Lowtown. The area was generally cleaner than Lowtown, but did not possess the nicer architecture and landscaping of Hightown. Aveline liked it. There was no excess trash and no idiot aristocrats, if there was a difference.

Isabela grew impatient. The evening was _agonizingly_ normal. While a nice change of pace from the usual bouts to the death, it was not nearly as fun. She spent a large portion trying to out drink Fenris. Despite the elf's lanky form, he could hold his liquor. It helped that Aveline had a very good selection.

After all these years, Isabela was sure she could beat Aveline, Hawke, Merrill and sometimes Varric. Right now, she was winning against Fenris, though they occasionally tied in these games. No one had ever beaten Anders. The mage couldn't get drunk thanks to Justice. It didn't mean the pirate never tried though.

The time to give presents finally came up. Isabela had waited the entire night for this moment. She put quite a bit of money into the painting. Granted, she didn't expect to be in Kirkwall, but since she was here anyway, she would get to see Aveline's priceless reaction. After everyone else finished, the rogue proudly presented her gift to the guardswoman.

Aveline scrutinized Isabela's present carefully. She was wary of what horrible thing that this would surely turn out to be. There was no way it was just an innocent picture, or frame. The guard captain steeled herself from the impending embarrassment that would no doubt form from this dubious item. She slowly unwrapped the present.

Merrill squealed with scandalous delight at the unveiling of Isabela's masterpiece. Varric gave a hearty laugh. He was expecting something like this, but it didn't make it any less funny. Fenris and Anders were both trying their best to mask their smiles. Donnic nearly dropped to the floor.

Aveline growled. The offending item portrayed the warrior in a very compromising position with a number of people _**and**_ animals in an overly decadent and undoubtedly Orlesian setting.

"You like it?" the pirate innocently asked.

The guardswoman frowned. "I'm naked," she grumbled, "and having sex with three people and two … goats?"

"They're Qunari, but you can think their goats if you want."

Aveline promptly got up and tossed the picture into the fireplace.

"Hey, that cost me two sovereigns!"

"Then it was a huge waste of your money," the burly warrior replied.

Isabela put up her hands in exasperation. "Fine," she said, and then grabbed a small bag she had been carrying around earlier. "I was saving this, but since you _need_ a new gift." The pirate pulled out a pair of chained leather manacles. "Here, for the next time you want to play naughty prisoner and the guardsman." That too was thrown into the flames. The rogue looked at her in mock disappointment. "Well, that's all I had. Now you don't get anything."

The guard captain frowned. "I don't want anything from you." She wasn't actually upset. After all these years, she expected this, and secretly enjoyed it. Hidden behind Aveline's frown, was a smile. Besides, Isabela did do the one thing the red head wanted.

She finally accepted Hawke.

"I do hope you weren't planning to use that on me," the Champion joked.

The rogue smirked. "You know you love it. Too bad we'll have to stick with old fashion rope _for now_," she said with a wink.

* * *

Isabela was disappointed. "Why did you turn her down?" She was talking a delicious offer from an equally delectable elf, who conveniently came to their rescue during an assassin's ambush after the party.

Hawke turned to her and replied, "Because it was obviously a trap. Who would willingly give us such an important treasure after spending so much effort to get it? She didn't even claim that she wanted to split the profits. On top of that how were we going to sell it?" The Champion was more concerned with who sent the assassins, but she would take care of it later.

"You worry too much." The pirate flippantly dropped her scarf onto the floor. "Think of the challenge," she enthusiastically said, "the adventure!"

As Isabela finished stripping, Hawke plopped down on the bed. "The backstabbing," she sarcastically replied.

"We just have to do it first." Isabela pushed the warrior back on the bed as she straddled her and pinned the Champion's hands above her head.

"You say that as if it's easy." Hawke lightly struggled as Isabela kept her restricted.

"Isn't it?" The rogue smirked as she leaned temptingly close.

The warrior moved for a kiss, only to have Isabela escape with a light giggle. Both amused and somewhat frustrated, Hawke asked, "Must we discuss that woman during sex?"

"Why not? She looked tasty," commented the Rivaini.

Hawke rolled her eyes. In a quick movement, she flipped their positions. "She's not the one I like sleeping with."

Isabela mockingly sighed. "A shame, because it sounds like fun."

"Inviting a dangerous thief to bed is not my idea of fun," Hawke grumbled.

"Oh, then what am I?"

"An incredibly sexy pirate?" The warrior hissed as Isabela nipped her neck.

The pirate then tauntingly licked the Champion's jaw. "You're just jealous."

"I am," she admitted without a hint of shame.

Isabela paused a moment, a bit surprised by Hawke's words. She smiled with appreciation. It was nice to feel needed. "Don't be," she replied. "I've got enough energy for two." With that, she quickly caught the warrior's lips with her own.

This was the end of it, or so Hawke thought.

* * *

"I want you to go to Chateau Haine," said Meredith while she busied herself with signing papers on her desk.

The Champion frowned. "I'm leaving Kirkwall in a few days. Is there any reason why I should drop all my plans and do that instead?" She was more than annoyed. A Templar dragged her to the Gallows with the excuse that the Knight Commander had _requested_ a meeting. To Hawke, it seemed that the Templars had become too accustomed to their position of power.

Without looking up, she replied, "You'll be paid." Meredith quickly scanned yet another indignant letter from Orsino about her newest rules. That man was difficult. "Twenty sovereigns," she added for good measure.

"No," replied Hawke. "I'm not some messenger girl for you to send about as you please."

The Templar sighed, and finally paused in her work. "Twenty-five sovereigns," she offered.

The warrior paused as she took notice of Meredith's face. The Knight Commander looked ragged. It was clear that her position was no luxury and the combined responsibilities of the Viscount's office and the Templars duties have taken their toll. Hawke felt a slight prick of pity. "Why?"

"Politics," the Knight Commander tersely stated. "Because of your reputation, Duke Prosper of Orlais has extended an invitation to you for one of his parties. Naturally, we will be sending another representative as well, but your presence will greatly aid Kirkwall's status."

Hawke groaned in annoyance. Still, twenty-five sovereigns to attend a party was definitely a steal. She grew up a poor farmer, so was hard pressed to let such easy coin slip away. "Make it thirty, and we'll have a deal."

"You'll bleed this city dry," said Meredith.

"If you could get anyone else you wouldn't have offered twenty-five. Now it's thirty. Take it or leave it."

"Fine," she reluctantly acquiesced. As the Champion exited, Meredith said one last thing. "Don't take that pirate wench with you." She returned her gaze to the desk and proceeded to write yet another letter explaining the necessity of her actions to Orsino while grumbling, "Maker knows what kind of trouble she'll make."

Hawke didn't bother to answer.

After making the actual arrangements with the Knight Commander's tranquil assistant, Hawke prepared to explain this new setback to Isabela. The pirate wasn't going to be happy, but the warrior suspected that she wouldn't be too disappointed either.

* * *

"Is that so?" she replied after Hawke told her the news. The Rivaini was suspiciously passive. It didn't take much for Hawke to guess what was going on.

"You've made arrangements with that elf haven't you?"

The rogue scowled. "Not yet, I wasn't expecting for this to happen. Are you going to stop me from taking on the job?" she accused.

Hawke sighed in resignation. She wasn't happy with it, or comfortable with the idea of Isabela walking into a trap, but she knew she couldn't stop the woman either. "No," she replied. "You can do what you want while I'm gone. Just _**don't**_ get caught."

A subtle hint of surprise appeared on Isabela's face. All this time, she thought the woman was more controlling than that. "Anything?" she suspiciously asked. The Rivaini didn't actually need the permission, of course. She was merely curious.

Hawke nodded and smiled. "You've been itching to meet up with her since last night."

"I've been that obvious?" the pirate laughingly asked.

A wry look was her reply. "There is one thing though," Hawke added, "I want you to take someone with you."

"You don't trust me?" Isabela teased. "Afraid I'll burn down a city again?"

"It's that elf I don't trust," answered the Champion honestly. "You're purposely walking into her trap. I want someone to be there when that happens, preferably Varric or Fenris." Thanks to his family, the merchant dwarf was well versed in the complexities of betrayal, and the warrior elf was just paranoid enough to see it coming.

Isabela pondered for a moment. She did plan to bring someone along anyway, but hadn't given any thought to whom. "Fair enough," she replied. "Now, if we're going to be apart for two weeks, we're going to have to do something _**very**_ special tonight."

Hawke smiled as she blew out the candle.

* * *

The Champion wandered around Duke Prosper's party. Aveline stood by the wall as her personal security escort. That blighted Seneschal insisted on it. Hawke was bored. The people here were about as interesting as darkspawn, and the warrior wasn't sure they were better conversationalists either. Nonetheless halfway through the evening, the guards suddenly became restless. Something had happened inside the fortress, and the Champion hoped to the Maker that she wouldn't get involved.

No sooner had she thought this before Merrill came stumbling out of the servant's entrance holding a server's plate followed by a long string of curses. She then walked straight into Hawke. The warrior blinked as she stared down the familiar mage.

"Merrill, what in the Maker's name are you doing here?"

"Hawke!" the mage squealed in surprise. "I didn't know Isabela asked you to come too."

The warrior froze. That treasure was here! Of all places it could be, it had to be in the middle of one of the strongest fortresses in Orlais. Hawke mentally cursed that elven thief. Right now, judging by the attitudes the guards were taking, Isabela probably ran into trouble. "Merrill, where is Isabela now?"

"She snuck in with Tallis. The two of them went in to steal the Heart of the Many."

"There she is!" someone shouted. "That's the elf that came with the thieves."

"Hell!" cursed Hawke. She grabbed Merrill and ran for the closest door as Aveline raced after her.

12345

After beating up the guards and stealing their equipment, Hawke set out to find Isabela. According to the now unconscious men, the two rogues were captured in an ambush.

The three women wandered around the maze-like dungeon for half-an-hour before Hawke found the pirate and the elf in a compromising position in the middle of their cell. She seethed.

"Hell of a time for sex isn't it?" the Champion sarcastically remarked.

"Hawke," exclaimed the surprised Rivaini. She noted how the warrior's lips formed into thin line. Hawke was angry. She awkwardly chuckled as she tried to explain. "Well you see, we thought it would be a good idea to put up a show to distract the guards and then escape."

The warrior crossed her arms and wore an expression of disbelief. "What guards?" she pointedly asked. A challenging glare was in her eyes.

"If we can discuss this _**during**_ our escape," interrupted Aveline as she unlocked the cell door.

To be fair, Isabela wasn't expecting rescue so soon, nor did she expect Hawke to show up. Tallis was to be a fun distraction during the wait, but with the look on Hawke's face, the pirate began to regret it just a little bit. She was disturbed, since when did Isabela ever feel bad about sex?

* * *

The Rivaini sat in the library with a jug of liquid courage to help. As she waited, the thoughts of Orlais haunted her mind. Isabela brooded about what she said the whole way back.

_I have a purpose. I have Hawke._

They managed to escape, but not before she uttered those damned words. It was stupid of her to blurt it out. She didn't mean it, at least, not at the time. She merely wanted to say something – anything – to make Tallis shut up. Her fellow rogue kept preaching about how great the Qun was. The pirate got tired of it, so she said the first thing that came to mind.

Of course, the Champion herself said nothing. All she did was let her mouth hang open for a couple of seconds before thinning her lips into yet another expressionless line. It bothered Isabela. Now she was worried, and somewhat curious. What did Hawke think? More than that, what did she want it to mean? How was Isabela going to explain herself?

One thing was clear; she had to talk to Hawke.

So she waited for Hawke to return that night from whatever errand she was on, but the Champion's arrival didn't give her the chance.

Hawke showed up with an unmistakable twinkle in her eye that meant something exciting would happen. Before Isabela could get out a word, the warrior quickly grabbed the pirate and dragged her towards the docks. When they arrived, she took out a blindfold and insisted that Isabela wear it for her surprise.

The rogue was spun a few times to throw off her sense of direction, and then led to their destination. She took note of the sounds and the smells. The thumps of her boots meant they were walking over wood. The lapping of waves meant they were still at the Docks. Finally, there was the sound of wood straining against the movement of the sea.

Hawke undid the blindfold.

Isabela found herself staring at a wall of wet brown planks. Her heart skipped a beat.

"It's a ship," said the Champion after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

"I can see that," replied the rogue. Her initial surprised faded and was replaced with unease. Three years ago, she would have sailed off in it without another thought, but her feelings for Hawke changed things. A ship wasn't a gift anymore. It was a _commitment_.

"You don't like it?" Doubts formed in Hawke's mind. Maybe buying it was a mistake.

Isabela walked up to the hull, and brushed her hand against the surface. It was Antivan in design. "What do you plan to do with it?"

The warrior put on her best smirk in hopes of lightening the mood. "I'd like to sail away in it."

"Is that so?" The pirate was too calm. It was unsettling.

"Yes, but," she paused nervously, "You don't seem to want to."

"I'm not sure what you want from me." The rogue secretly hoped that Hawke had some sort of selfish motive for buying the craft. Maybe if she did it for profit, then Isabela wouldn't feel so _guilty _if she took it.

"I thought it was clear. I want you to captain this ship." The warrior awkwardly stood there, while watching the Rivaini slowly examine the craft. She had hoped that Isabela would be more excited with the prospect.

The pirate turned toward Hawke. An unreadable expression was on her face. "So you're giving it to me?"

Hawke looked to the ship to avoid eye contact, and placed her hand on the wooden bow. "Would you accept it if I did?" the Champion tentatively asked.

"No," was the reply.

"Oh," said Hawke. Her shoulders slumped in dejection.

"Look," explained Isabela. "This isn't some trinket you give to friends. It's a ship." She whipped around with her arms held wide to emphasize her point and continued, "A big, expensive, floating sign of your feelings. You may as well propose."

Hawke scowled at the implication. She would never try to buy Isabela's feelings. "I'm not asking you to marry me."

The rogue let out a tired sigh. "It's the same thing."

The Champion sat down on a pier nearby and stared at the ground in disappointment. "You wanted a ship for so long; I thought you would like it." She absently kicked an invisible rock. "Without you it's worthless. What do I do now?"

A moment of silence passed between them. "Make me a business offer."

"What?"

Isabela walked up to the Champion and leaned in close enough for Hawke to wrap an arm around her. "Look, if there is one thing I can trust you to be, it's a professional. I'm not ready for commitment, but I can do a job."

"And if it doesn't work out?" They both knew she was talking about more than just being this ship's captain.

"Then I'll have no problem with stealing it and abandoning you at the nearest port," Isabela joked.

"Really now?" asked the warrior with criticism.

The pirate chuckled. "Don't worry, Hawke. I know you. You'd hunt me down and take it back out of spite."

A slow smile formed on the Champion's face as their conversation grew lighter. "Yes, well, you'd sink it before you let me have it back," she dryly said.

"How dare you?" Isabela smirked with amusement. "I would never sink a proper ship," she teased, "Not on purpose anyway." Then she became serious. "Hawke, if I do become captain, this ship will be under my command." She watched the warrior nod with understanding. "I mean it, Hawke. As long as we're on board, my word is law, and you have to obey no matter what."

"Of course," the Champion solemnly replied and held up a hand as if she swore an oath.

They quickly let themselves on board, where the pirate immediately declared that it needed to be christened with sex. Hawke was hardly surprised when Isabela pounced as soon as they entered the Captain's cabin. She likened it to a Mabari pissing on trees to claim territory.

After they finished, the two laid on the wooden plank that was left of the bed. "I'll be picking splinters out of my ass for weeks," complained Hawke.

"The scavengers really picked this place clean," replied the pirate as she propped up on one arm to face the Champion. "How did you get this ship anyway?"

"Seneschal Bran mentioned that the city repossessed a ship after it'd been at dock too long without paying its due. Apparently the owner disappeared and the crew abandoned it soon after." The warrior thoughtfully recalled that particular conversation. In truth, the ship was to be auctioned, but when the Seneschal heard that the Champion wished to leave the city, he felt it was his _civic duty_ to help Hawke with her endeavor. That irritating expression of utter joy at the mention of her departure from Kirkwall was surely a side effect of a job well done.

"If you mean disappeared as in having Fenris splitting his head open with that great sword of his, you're completely right."

The Champion stared at her in surprise. "Wait," she gasped, "this is Castillon's boat?"

"Ship, sweet thing," corrected the pirate, "and yes, it's his. I recognized it the moment I saw it."

Hawke fell back and laughed. "You got your ship after all."

"It's technically yours."

"Details," the warrior playfully replied. There was no response. She then noticed that Isabela wasn't smiling anymore. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Isabela turned to look directly into Hawke's eyes. "Do you remember what I said in Orlais, when we were traveling through those caves?"

"About?" asked the Champion.

"About how I had a purpose," answered the rogue.

Hawke averted her gaze. "Yes," she replied. Admittedly, she wanted to know what Isabela meant with those words, but when the rogue said nothing, Hawke came to believe it meant nothing. She chalked it up to a poorly thought out comeback against Tallis' question.

"You know that I…" Her mouth went dry.

The Champion shrugged when Isabela turned away. "I understand. You didn't mean it."

"Well, that was easy." Isabela lay back on the bed and stared up. She should have been relieved, but a nagging feeling continued to thrum in the back of her head. "What if I did?" she blurted before she even knew.

Hawke lazily drew circles on Isabela's thigh as she considered her answer. "I don't know. I'd be happy, I guess."

"That's it?" The Rivaini felt a little disappointed. The reaction was underwhelming.

Hawke elicited a slight gasp from Isabela as she lightly drew her fingers up the leg to the stomach. "What else could I be?"

The Rivaini shrugged. "I don't know. That's why I asked."

"I suppose if you really meant it, I could propose," she guessed.

Isabela sighed. "You know I don't do marriage."

Hawke stopped her ministrations and sat up. "I figured that out when I found you on top of Tallis."

The pirate groaned with annoyance. "That's still bothering you?"

A frown was her answer.

"Look, Hawke," she said, "it was just sex."

"I know." Her voice was resigned.

"You're angry about it." Isabela pointed out.

"I can't help it." She shrugged.

Isabela cautiously put her hand on the Champion's shoulder as she moved to sit next to her. "Do you want me to stop?"

Hawke panicked for a moment, and hoped that the Rivaini was not talking their relationship. "Stop what?"

"Sex with others," replied the rogue. "I can try, if… if you want." Her mouth felt dry. Isabela believed that maybe she could actually do it, if it was for Hawke.

"I—" The Champion thought for a moment. She did want the pirate exclusively for herself, and thought about it for a long time now, but the idea also felt unnatural. "No," replied Hawke. She watched Isabela's eyes widen in surprise. "I don't want you to change." In her heart, the warrior knew that the Rivaini would never be satisfied with just her. Sex was always a matter of pleasure for the rogue, and while Hawke was good, she couldn't do everything the woman needed.

"But I already have." Isabela's voice softened. "I fell in love with you." It was the first time she ever said it, and surprisingly, she didn't regret it. Now she had the answer to the question that plagued her for weeks. Isabela, herself, had _changed_, and for the first time, it wasn't for the worse.

The simple declaration brought a smile to the warrior's face. "I know, and that means a lot to me," said Hawke. "But I don't want you to try to become someone you're not." She kissed the rogue, and whispered, "I fell in love with a promiscuous pirate thief, who stole my heart with tawdry banister carvings and bottles of dropping-flavored whiskey."

Isabela chuckled, and wondered where Hawke pulled such a moment of eloquence. "You really don't mind?" She was touched that the Champion wanted to accept her wilder nature. All her past loves wanted the opposite.

The warrior offered her a half-smile. "I wouldn't say that, but…" She kissed the back of the pirate's hand in a gesture of affection. "So long as you don't flaunt it in my face, and I'm the one you come back to at the end of the day, I'm willing to try." Yes, forcing monogamy on Isabela would be like trying to capture the sea. Hawke would only lose her.

"I can do that," said the pirate. So long as she had Hawke, she didn't need to look elsewhere. In one quick movement, she straddled the warrior's lap and caught her lips in a passionate kiss. It was during this when a stray thought made her giggle.

The Champion broke away and asked, "What is it?"

"Does it count as flaunting, if you're invited?" A grin was on her face.

Hawke burst out in laughter, before she buried her face in Isabela's breasts, effectively tickling the pirate into another fit of giggles. Neither of them could speak for a good minute.

"Is that a yes to hours of hot threesome sex?" Isabela finally said after she calmed down. A hint of hope, and the promise of fun was in her voice.

"It's not a no," Hawke playfully replied.

After they finished _thoroughly_ inspecting the ship, the pair made their way back to Hawke's estate. Upon arrival, Bodahn quickly jogged up to the returning Champion with a letter in his hand. "Messere, a messenger arrived with this." He handed over the envelope. "He said it was urgent."

Isabela looked over at Hawke with curiosity. "What is it?"

The warrior quickly opened the letter and read it. "It's from Orsino. He wants me to meet him in front of the Chantry." She tossed the parchment on a table. "I guess we'll have to see. You up for a trip?" she asked the pirate.

Isabela shrugged with indifference before saying, "Might as well."

* * *

**Bonus Content**

_Former_ magistrate Vanard paced around his country home in the Free Marches. He ground his teeth in frustration. That damned Champion would not die! He spent all his coin on Antivan Crows – the best of professionals – to finish the job, only to hear that their ambush failed after an anonymous woman interfered. How dare the Crows claim to be the best if they could not deliver on their promise?

An elven servant cautiously entered and caused the door to squeak as he opened it. Angrily, Vanard grabbed the closest object and threw it at the intruder, which made the servant recoil in fear. "What is it?" he demanded.

"Apologies, Messere," replied the frightened man, "but there is someone at the front door demanding your presence."

Vanard groaned. It was another debt collector no doubt. Plotting to murder the Champion of Kirkwall was not cheap, and without his former title, his days were numbered. Hawke did not just take his son she took his entire life. Upon reaching the door, he was met with a very tanned elven man. Vanard wondered in what world this knife-ear thought he had the right to demand _his _presence.

"What do you want?" Was this what he was debased to, answering the door to a debt collector's servant?

"Ah," he spoke. The man put on his most charming smile. "I am Zevran Aranai." He bowed in a way that felt somewhat mocking.

"And?" questioned the annoyed former magistrate.

"Well, I am here to address a contract with the Crows about ending the life of a certain Champion. You are the contractor, no?" Zevran's smile did nothing to reveal his thoughts or intentions, a fact that made Vanard feel a twinge of fear.

He shook his head in denial. "I don't know what you're talking about. I hate the woman, but am not low enough to pay assassins."

"Oh, my sincerest apologies," replied the elf. "You see, I'm here because the Crows are in something of a mess. Their guild master recently passed along with a number of their most senior members. As such, they – unfortunately – were only able to send younger apprentices to fulfill this contract."

Vanard frowned and said, "That's too bad, but what does it have to do with me?" No wonder they failed.

"Well," said Zevran. "As apprentices, they did not have the wisdom to burn their instructions before getting killed." He held out a very incriminating letter with the former magistrate's seal.

Naturally, Vanard was frozen. His eyes were filled with fear. He wanted to run, but could tell it would do little good with this man. Instead, he tried to act indignant in hopes that it would make him seem innocent. "It must be a forgery." He said, "Undoubtedly by the Champion herself to frame me. She does hate me after presiding over the trial of her pirate whore."

The assassin paused thoughtfully. "I suppose, but that's a story more fitting if I were a guard looking to arrest you." Then he chuckled. "Unfortunately for you, my friend," said the elf, "I am experienced enough to burn my instructions."

Vanard backed away to run, but Zevran caught his arm first.

"The Champion says, 'Goodbye.'" The elf then stabbed him in the heart.

One week later, Hawke returned from her trip to Orlais. As she looked over the pile of letters accumulated in her absence, one in particular stood out. It contained news she had been waiting for since the ambush in Hightown's market.

_The magistrate received your message. _

_Yours Truly,_

_Z_


	11. Epilogue: Love

_Lookie, Transition finally has cover art! I drew it myself using Isabela's starting daggers as a reference. Took me 6 hours. I'm constantly tweaking it, so new things may pop up in the future._

_Also, I rewrote chapter 3. I've always known it was by far the weakest chapter, and rehashes far too much of the game itself. I have no idea what I was thinking when I wrote it. However, most of the unnecessary fat has been trimmed, plus one new scene in the beginning. _

_So, I apparently lied when I said it'd be up in a week. What happened was that I wasn't satisfied with the original version, and rewrote it… a lot. _

_12345_

_To Anon: Writing Isabela jealous would require at least 2 chapters of set up. The reason is that Isabela's first thought, if Hawke flirted with another person, would not be jealousy. It would be, "Woot, threesome!" The only way she'd actually be jealous – in this story at least – would be because Hawke is drifting away from her emotionally toward someone else. Now to get readers to relate to Isabela's jealousy, I have to introduce an original character, make her alluring and then make her a possible __**serious**__ love interest for Hawke. That is a story in itself. _

* * *

**Epilogue**

They left Kirkwall in the chaos that followed in the Mage-Templar battle. Anders died by Sebastian's blade. The Chantry brother slit his throat as they watched Kirkwall burn from the ship that Isabela now captained. Hawke promised the Starkhaven royal the right to Anders' life after they made it out the city and no sooner. She couldn't afford to lose the gifted healer just before the battle of their lives, but was angry enough that she didn't care about his fate afterward.

With a motley crew that was patched together from dockworkers desperate to escape the fighting, the companions managed to sail to Amaranthine before they began to separate. Aveline was the first to leave by staying in the city with Donnic. The two once again took up posts in the city guard. Hawke sent letters now and then, and they enjoyed meetings when _The Siren's Sister_ came to port.

Varric opted to stay with Aveline for a time. Amaranthine was close enough to Kirkwall that he still had a number of active contacts there. It wasn't long after when he disappeared underground. Occasionally rumors of his business dealings reached the guardswoman's ears, but contact with him was sparse at best. She wasn't even sure he operated in the country anymore, let alone the city.

Merrill opted to help the elves in Denerim's alienage. After losing her clan, she found new meaning in helping her race in remembering the pride their people once had. She was a great teacher, and served as a much-needed healer among the poor. King Alistair unofficially supported her presence, and the Templars were too busy with their rebellion to worry about a single mage living peacefully among the destitute of Denerim. Isabela made sure to bring her trinkets and such whenever they were in port.

Sebastian Vael left the crew when they got to Orlais. He journeyed to Val Royeaux in hopes of helping the Chantry in their time of need. Fenris went with him, but only to join the Templars. His only wish was to control the mage threat to Thedas. He had little love for the Chantry itself.

After sailing for a year and doing shipping jobs across the Waking Sea, Isabela and Hawke found themselves in Llomerryn. The former Champion remained at the Docks to negotiate with their next customer, while the captain went into the city in search of supplies.

It was here when she saw a very familiar makeshift tent in a crowded part of the market. Curiosity got the better of her. Inside she found an old woman surrounded by trinkets customary of a Rivaini Seer.

"Tell your future for five silvers?" asked the woman. Isabela almost didn't recognize her. She was far older than her years. Her arms were thinner, more wrinkled, and her face was sunken in with early signs of starvation. Time had been rough on her mother.

The old woman looked up at her. "I feel you're searching for something. I may help you find it." She gestured for Isabela to sit.

The pirate did just that. She didn't say anything of course. Her own mother didn't seem to recognize her anymore. "I am," she responded, "_my mother_."

The woman looked up expectantly. "For ten silvers an hour, I can contact her from beyond the grave." She held out her hands to take in Isabela's.

Isabela laughed. "You're mistaken. My mother is not dead."

Her mother shrugged in response. "Then for fifteen silvers I can help you find her." She pulled out a crystal necklace and a map of Thedas.

The ship captain quickly grabbed the older Rivaini's hand. "That's not what I meant," she nearly shouted. "Look _at_ me!"

Finally, the old woman met her eyes, and studied her face in the dim light. She gasped in surprise and whispered a name that Isabela had long abandoned. "What do you want?" she asked in fear.

The rogue shrugged. "I wanted to see what became of the bitch who sold me into marriage for a bag of gold coins and a goat."

"I did what was best for you," her mother defended. "Luis was rich, capable and…"

"_A pig_, who used me as his plaything for years." Isabela tightly clenched her mother's arm, enough to make it hurt. "Don't you _dare_ say you did it for me! You turned to the Qun and were angry that I wouldn't. What happened, mother? Did they try to force _you_ into a loveless marriage?"

"Stop," her mother half screamed, and struggled against Isabela's grip. "I'm sorry." She said that forgotten name once more. "Please," she begged, "Why are you here?"

Isabela let go and forced herself to calm down. She sat stiffly leaned back. "I was curious." There was so much she wanted to say: about her new life; about _Hawke_. Isabela _hated _herself for it. That woman didn't _deserve_ to know.

The old seer defiantly straightened her back in an effort to maintain control. "I did what was best," she repeated. It was hard to tell if she said it for herself or for her daughter.

Isabela slammed her fists on the table. "You think selling me off to the highest bidder was the best?" It was the same reason her mother used years ago. Isabela wanted to believe it then, but she knew better now.

"Look at you now!" She gestured at the golden adornments the rogue liked to wear. They were symbols of status, and wealth.

"No!" Isabela yelled back. "I did this! I made something of myself. You had nothing to do with it."

"Believe what you want, but the truth is that you would not be where you are today if it were not for what I did." She scowled, indignant at her daughter's accusation. She _couldn't_ let herself believe otherwise lest she be the monster her daughter believed.

Isabela sat back and snorted in disdain. "You're still that same self-righteous bitch you were ten years ago. I don't know why I even bothered." The rogue got up and tossed a sovereign at the old woman. "Here," she said. "Get something to eat." She left without waiting for a reply.

The unexpected meeting was _draining_. She should have known better– should have been better. She _needed_ a distraction.

"Isabel–" The warrior was smothered immediately. She was sitting at a table with a number of the sailors from the ship when her captain strolled in and promptly jumped her. The kiss was fierce, and passionate, but a little desperate.

Isabela didn't care that they were in the middle of the tavern. She wanted ravish Hawke at that moment, so set about tearing off whatever clothes the former Champion had.

However, Hawke was not one for public displays, and quickly pulled the rogue into their room. She could still hear the hooting by all the other sailors through their door. They knew she was getting lucky, but she wasn't so sure. Isabela liked to flirt in front of the boys, which let them know exactly whose screams they heard at night, but she never really tried to give them a show.

Something was off.

Yet the warrior couldn't say anything. She was slammed against the wall. Her mouth was taken; her hands half-heartedly tried to regain control. Isabela knew exactly where to touch, what to lick and where to bite. Rough was an understatement, but Hawke was wet all the same. Her clothes were off, fingers inside and pushing her to the edge of release.

She screamed for the Maker. Her legs buckled; her head fell on the rogue's shoulders. "Isabela," she panted. Hawke saw the chaos and anger swirling in her lover's eyes. Without another word, she led them both to the bed and returned the favor, but very differently than what just happened. There was tenderness in her touch, a caress – a kiss – done with affection. Isabela gave it rough, but she clearly needed something else. This wasn't fun sex. It was about comforting the most important person in her life in the way she needed. Hawke wanted to make Isabela feel _loved_.

She moved slowly, bringing her lover to the edge and keeping her there in agonizing suspension. Hawke forced their eyes to meet; she wanted the rogue to know exactly who she was with, and that she would not leave, ever.

A final push, a kiss and Isabela's body shuddered. She chuckled a bit; Hawke was too gentle for her usual preferences. Still, she smiled.

Sometimes _gentle_ was nice.

The sex did lesson her immediate anger. She still hated that woman, but she wasn't itching to stab or fuck random strangers anymore. Now, Isabela found herself staring at the ceiling and pondering about how she wasted an entire afternoon.

On the other hand, the former Champion stared at her lover with worry. "What happened?" she asked after a long silence.

The ship captain shrugged. "Nothing," she replied.

"Isabela," Hawke lightly chastised. She wanted to know, because she cared. "You never put on that much of a show for the men, so something is wrong, or you thought today would be a good day to become a voyeur."

The rogue gave her an amused grin. "I thought you would appreciate the spontaneity of it all. Besides, today is a great day to make _you _a voyeur."

A little annoyed, Hawke forced their eyes to meet. "Isabela, please," she begged, "Talk to me."

The captain rolled her eyes. She didn't like talking about such _tedious_ things, but the look on Hawke's face made her open up. Hawke wouldn't use it against her; she was special. "I saw my mother in the market today."

This piqued the warrior's interest. "How did it go?"

"As expected," she answered honestly. "She's a self-centered bitch who will never change."

_Disappointment_

She should have expected it. Had that woman been anything else?

"I'm sorry." Hawke knew she was lucky. Leandra unconditionally _loved_ all her children.

"It's nothing to apologize for. She's always been like that." All she taught Isabela was that only survival mattered. Until Hawke came along, she believed it.

"But still," replied the warrior. "She is your mother."

The rogue scowled at the comment. "I have no mother." Popping her out into the world did not make that woman her mother. She tried not to think of her childhood, of how her mother would comfort her after a nightmare or of when they celebrated when her mother pulled in larger amounts of silver. Damn those memories; they made her vision blur.

Hawke wiped the tears away without hesitation and pulled the Rivaini into a hug. "It's okay."

She buried her face in Hawke's chest. "I'm not crying," she said in a muffled voice. That woman wasn't worth it.

"I know." There was very little she could say. No child deserved such a parent. "Is there anyone else?" The warrior immediately regretted it. Isabela once confessed to have no one, and this was a horrible time to remind her.

"You," replied the rogue. "I have you." It was ironic. She spent the majority of her adult life running from any attachments, but now she couldn't imagine being alone.

Hawke was surprised for a moment, but quickly responded with a smile. "Always," she said and kissed her lover. Even after they were together, the rogue rarely expressed her feelings so directly. Isabela usually preferred to let her body do the talking, so when she voiced her feelings, they mattered. It made the former Champion cherish moments like these more, so she pulled the rogue closer and whispered into her ear, "I love you."

Those words—Isabela never thought they could make her shiver. She had heard them many times before, but they never made her feel so _important_. Her mother used _love_ to use her. Some men screamed it in the height of ecstasy. Others thought they could tame her with it, and very few ever meant it. Yet here she was, with the woman she ran from because of it.

"I know," she replied with a smirk. Now she recalled what she said in the Orlesian tunnels over a year ago. At the time, the words were empty. Now, Isabela could say it once more and mean it.

She had a purpose.

She had Hawke.

And she was lucky.

* * *

**Bonus Content**

Aveline was settling into her new home in Amaranthine. The port city was a perfect place to hide in the wake of Kirkwall's rebellion. She took Donnic's last name to hide her identity, and Aveline was a very common name for Orlesian girls. With her experience, it wasn't hard to demonstrate her abilities as a capable commander and warrior, and she swiftly found a job in the city guard once more. With the steady income, the couple quickly found a new home.

It was well past midnight, and all the guests of their housewarming party had long left. Aveline finally finished cleaning up the inevitable after-party mess, when Donnic appeared at the entrance of their bedroom wearing nothing but a ragged shirt and sporting a delicate pair of leather cuffs.

"Are you up for a game tonight, love?" he asked in his most seductive voice.

Aveline found herself giggling at his boldness. "Why, Serah Donnic, have you been a _bad_ _boy_?"

"Indeed," her husband played along, "I need a _firm_ hand to guide me back to the light."

She kissed him, and took the restraints from his hands. "I think I have the perfect punishment for bad boys like you."

Aveline never did tell Isabela she didn't need those leather manacles for her birthday. She already had the perfect pair.

* * *

_End Notes: Kinky Aveline booyah! Bet you didn't need that image in your mind. I would like to think they switch off on who's the guardsman. My apologies to all you sex connoisseurs. I usually avoid details, because I suck at writing it, but this chapter made it unavoidable. It's still vague, but more than I usually include._

_I wrote Anders' fate like that because it never made sense to me to kill the only useful healer right before the final battle, but letting Sebastian run off like a whiny pre-teen girl was also dumb. Though sometimes I wonder if he isn't just a very ugly one. _

_Isabela's confrontation with her mother was interesting to write. As you all know, I've attempted before, but couldn't finish it. Clearly, I was missing the key component known as Hawke in Isabela's life. Personally, I think that Isabela still cares about her mother to a degree. After all, it's hard to truly hate a parent. At the same time, she also resents the woman for all she's done. In the end, she has to convince herself that the woman she saw was never a mother. Sorry I couldn't include a fun Isabela in this chapter. It wasn't my original intention to leave on such a serious note. _

_I'd like to thank all of you for ending this journey with me._

_Be sure to leave a review. _


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